


Free

by WolfAndHound_Archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Denial, Drama, Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2005-07-28
Packaged: 2018-05-18 10:02:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5924221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfAndHound_Archivist/pseuds/WolfAndHound_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius tackles new magic to capture Wormtail and clear his name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Research and Reassurance

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Lassenia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Wolf and Hound](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Wolf_and_Hound), which was created to make stories posted to the Sirius_Black_and_Remus_Lupin Yahoo! mailing list easier to find. However, even though I still love the fandom, I am no longer active in it and do not have the time to maintain it. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2015. I posted an announcement with Open Doors, but we may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Wolf and Hound collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wolfandhound/profile).

A clock ticked. Logs hissed and crackled companionably to the flames, not caring that the orange tongues would eventually devour them. A quill scratched a brief counterpoint across parchment and then stopped. The clock ticked on, ignored by the raven-haired man pondering the lists he’d written. There were three headings: ingredients, properties, and a vague estimation of how much of each ingredient was required. Reflectively, he nibbled on the end of the quill and debated about adding the next item. 

‘Runespoor eggs? Hardly anyone’s mentioned them. Although, the books that list them seem more reliable than most of the rubbish I’ve read. But how the hell would I get my hands on them? Snape? Would he have any hidden in his office?’

An impish grin slowly slid across the thin features as Sirius Black imagined popping down unannounced to Severus Snape’s quarters some evening. “Sorry to bother you, Snape, but would you happen to have some runespoor eggs that I might have?”

With any luck, his unexpected resurrection in Snape’s life would cause the hated Potions Master to keel over dead. 

The grin faded. Much as he would like springing full-formed and very much alive right in Snape’s face for the shock value alone, for now his existence needed to be kept secret. A small group of people had witnessed his presence in the battle at the Department of Mysteries in June. And they had seen him die. However, his death had resulted from a fall through a veil, and there had been no body left behind. No evidence. No proof. 

The Death Eaters captured that night hadn’t talked. Without solid proof of Sirius’ demise, they were unable to get his wealth and property into the hands of his closest male relative, Draco Malfoy. The Black estate was still beyond their grasp. But the Death Eaters were quite happy to let the Ministry continue to waste time and manpower hunting for him in the mistaken belief of his position at Voldemort’s right hand, a thought made all the more frightening to the general public since the Ministry had acknowledged Voldemort’s return. Rumor said that Lucius Malfoy had implicated Sirius as the strategist behind the Death Eaters’ plot to obtain the Prophecy. 

The members of the Order of the Phoenix had also kept silent about Sirius’ presence that fateful night. Their silence protected the Black fortune and kept 12 Grimmauld Place away from the Malfoys. Plus, they still had no proof of Sirius’ innocence to bring to the Ministry. Admitting that he had fought and died on their side would not clear his name legally or in the court of public opinion. And, even though Albus Dumbledore’s reputation had been restored as a result of those events, he felt that the time was not right to make a case for Sirius’ innocence.

But, of the people who had witnessed Sirius’ death, only three knew of his return from beyond the veil on Halloween night. Ancient magic had come into play, summoned by his dead ancestors. The pact of Cognatus Putus, a pact that had arisen eons ago between the powers beyond life and the pureblooded families, had delivered him, body and soul, back to the living. 

His return remained shrouded in secrecy. It was a weapon, blunt and unformed, but now being honed and tempered in preparation for a strike against one of those closest to the Dark Lord.

Sirius Black, convicted murderer, fugitive, and unregistered Animagus, now studied to push transformative magic to its highest level. He planned to do what no one in several hundred years had done successfully: become a Polyanimagus, a wizard who could change into any animal form at will. Then, he’d be ready to emerge from his secret lair at Hogwarts to hunt down Peter Pettigrew, wherever that rat lay hidden. If all went as planned, Voldemort would lose a close supporter, more of his treachery would be exposed, and Sirius would regain his good name and his freedom. 

But, in order to accomplish this, he needed to develop a formula for the required potion. And that meant that any ingredients would have to be obtained by Albus Dumbledore or Remus Lupin. With vague regret, Sirius gave up on his fantasy of sneaking out of his hidden suite of rooms to invade Snape’s sanctuary. 

Sirius’ thoughts turned to a more pleasant subject. Remus. His beautiful, careworn, long-suffering lover, who was once more traveling alone for the Order. The sound of Sirius’ voice echoed in his own mind, pledging a solemn vow to someone or something in the hazy memories he retained of his time beyond the veil. “I promise to bind myself for my lifetime and after my death, to a person of pure heart, whose ideals and actions reflect the best aspects of the blood purity out of which this pact arose.” He had not mentioned Remus by name. But, his lover’s presence in his heart had been as vibrant in death as it had ever been in life. 

Sirius frowned at the clock. Time moved so slowly when Remus was gone. 

The significance of the position of the clock’s hands suddenly registered. Harry would be here shortly and Sirius couldn’t let him get any hint of the Polyanimagus preparations. Rapidly, he rolled up his parchments. With a flick of his wand, he sent his flock of books and parchments flying through the adjoining room. They glided neatly into hiding under the large bed in the spacious bedroom beyond.

Sirius grabbed yesterday’s Daily Prophet to skim the headlines before Harry’s arrival. “Fudge Declares Progress Being Made in the Hunt for Y-K-W.” “Sports Minister Says Quidditch Pitches Safe from Attack.” “Family of Three Vanishes in Devon.”

Sirius snorted with disgust. “Everything is perfectly fine, unless you and your family simply disappear.”

He flipped to the back of the paper to do the crossword puzzle. Rapidly, he filled in half of the grid before tossing the paper down. With increasing irritation, Sirius wondered if he had become unbeatably proficient at this or if perhaps the current puzzle editor was an idiot. He snatched the paper up once more and flipped through it. 

“Gringotts in Talks with Finance Secretary.” “Twelfth Anniversary Celebrated by St. Mungo’s Office of Single-Parent Births.” “Renowned Purveyor of Crystal Balls Retires.”

Sirius’ eyes darted back to the story on single parent births He’d never heard of this office. Skimming rapidly through the article he discovered it had been set up because of the depredations suffered among families during the previous Death Eater war. But, the office had proven so popular that it still provided assistance to single witches or wizards who wished to have children. With a weary sadness, Sirius feared that their business would increase rapidly over the next few years. 

The clock’s hands seemed to have frozen. Remus was no closer to returning. Sirius concentrated hard, bringing up a perfect vision of Remus in his head, hearing the mellow voice chiding him for his sudden melancholy.

The ward on outer door unlocked to Harry’s touch. He walked in and cocked an eyebrow at Sirius. “What have you been up to?”

Sirius blinked once. Twice. “I’ve been thinking,” he said with complete truthfulness.

“About what?” Harry advanced into the room, dumping his book bag on the table. His look of amused doubt was so reminiscent of his father that Sirius got a slight feeling of vertigo, as if he was suddenly 16 again, trying unsuccessfully to hide something from the knowing eyes of his best friend. Mentally he shook the feeling away.

“Oh, all sorts of things. Politics, vacation spots, Quidditch standings…” His eyes flicked over to the clock.

“You mean you’ve been thinking about Remus.”

Sirius grinned. “Am I that obvious?”

“You look at the clock every thirty seconds when he’s gone.”

With a laugh, Sirius ushered Harry into the sitting room for their daily chat. “I **am** hopeless, aren’t I? Okay, take my mind off my missing werewolf, and tell me how you did on your Transfiguration test.”

With a look of quiet pride, Harry did just that.

~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~

For most of his life Remus had tended to drift slowly into wakefulness. No longer. Over the last month, he’d wake bolt upright in bed as if hexed. Only the sight or feel of his lover sleeping peacefully beside him would calm his racing heart. Exhaling his pent-up breath in a long sigh, Remus would whisper three words, the same three words it had become his habit to murmur when he tottered at the edge of sleep at night. Three words, spoken not only as an affirmation but also, it seemed to Sirius, as a protective spell. 

The driving rain clattered like applause against the windows. The wind shrieked with a banshee wail, careening around the turrets of Hogwarts. That’s what woke him up this morning, Remus vainly tried to convince himself. He settled back beneath the covers into the warm nest that cocooned their bodies. His hand gently stroked once down the smooth skin of Sirius’ back before Remus snuggled up against him. “I love you,” he breathed, and allowed his body to go back to sleep.

His mind, however, had other ideas. Last night Sirius had brought him up to date on the research into the Polyanimagus Transformation, calmly informing him that it was time to brew the potion. That Sirius hadn’t yet done so; that he’d waited until Remus returned from his latest trip on Order business both pleased and surprised Remus. He knew Dumbledore contributed ideas and suggestions to the complicated preparations for this Transformation. And, if both Sirius and Albus felt that the formula for the potion was correct, there really was no need to wait for Remus’ presence to commence the actual brewing. 

Yet, Sirius had waited. True, there was a higher degree of caution and deliberation in all of his lover’s actions since he had returned from beyond the veil. But, Remus thought there was something else. He was positive that Sirius sensed Remus’ unspoken fear of losing him for a third time. 

Remus snorted quietly. ‘Am I really that needy?’ he wondered, and decided, that, yes, right now, he was. He adjusted his limbs more comfortably around Sirius, and nuzzled his face into the thick, black hair. Remus regretted it wasn’t nearly as silky as it had been years ago. But it had lost much of the coarse, lank feel that had dulled its luster after years in prison. Like many of his lover’s physical attributes, that once-glorious hair seemed to be on its way back. With a contented sigh, Remus relaxed. A little more sleep would be good.

His brain refused to cooperate. Instead, it began to pull out everything they had discussed the previous night. It examined thoughts and reasoning from every angle, probing the gaps in their knowledge, seeking mistakes in logic or assumptions. 

Like most advanced and potentially dangerous magic, the process was not laid out like a recipe in a cookbook. The potion had to be created from scratch because the precise amounts of the necessary ingredients differed with each person. The aspiring Polyanimagus had to decide how the various animal forms, whether mammal, bird, reptile, insect or fish, corresponded to his existing Animagus form, and adjust the potion ingredients accordingly. 

Remus was out of his depth at this point. He understood the need for certain ingredients, such as gillyweed to help develop gills. Shrivelfig and moke skin for shrinking. Ground streeler shells for the ability to change colors. And even several questionable items like runespoor eggs. 

But, he had no confidence of his own ability to develop a proper potion from these items, even with Sirius’ detailed and meticulous explanation. The preparation of common household brews posed no problems for him, but he lacked the intuitive sense of potions and their ingredients that Sirius possessed. Sirius was quite like Snape in that respect, Remus mused, although he dared not mention that in Sirius’ hearing. 

Firmly pushing potion questions aside, Remus thought about the second part of the process, the mental application of magic, turning it inward upon oneself. The incantation required to channel magical energy towards shape-shifting into a different animal called for the utmost concentration, especially since a wizard needed to completely close his consciousness to his Animagus form. 

He thought about last night’s conversation….//

”That’s the key, Moony.” Sirius said, after spending another long day poring through the mountain of tomes that Dumbledore had provided from Hogwarts’ Library, checking and re-checking his research. His arms reached back over his head as he stretched in his chair, tilting it to a gravity-defying angle. 

“You have to clear all thoughts of Padfoot from your mind? Can you do that?” A small frown creased the old-young face.

The upraised chair legs thudded to the floor. “Are you saying you don’t think I have the mental discipline to handle this?”

“No, not at all!” And that was true, Remus reflected. The ability to focus all his concentration and skills with microscopic precision onto one problem had always been part of Sirius’ make-up. Sometimes his solution was so elegantly constructed that Remus wished for a way to capture it visually, in a sweeping inspirational architecture of the mind. But, sometimes Sirius got so carried away with his own cleverness that he ignored the context into which his problem fit, with occasionally disastrous results. 

“I’m not impugning your abilities, Sirius. But, Padfoot has played such a big role in your life that-“ Remus stopped as a realization struck him.

“That what?” Sirius prodded.

Padfoot. Remus knew he had two merged perceptions of Padfoot. One was his and one was Moony’s. Moony didn’t know Sirius. Moony knew Padfoot, the big, black dog that had always been the most beloved member of his pack. The pull of Moony’s bond with Padfoot was so deep and instinctual that it bled into Remus’ perception. “I often think of Padfoot a separate entity, not as a different manifestation of you. That’s not how you see him, is it?”

“I don’t **see** him. Padfoot isn’t some sort of costume. I’m Padfoot.” Sirius was mildly perplexed that this concept seemed foreign to his lover. “That’s the difficulty. How do I suppress the part of me that is Padfoot?”

Remus thought about that. “Let’s assume that this works and as a Polyanimagus, you often transform into a squirrel.”

Sirius sniffed disdainfully. “A squirrel?”

“Perhaps a small rodent isn’t the best example,” Remus conceded. “Alright, let’s say an eagle.”

Mollified, Sirius nodded and Remus continued. “Does the eagle become another part of you, an equal to Padfoot?”

Sirius wormed a book from the midst of his bibliographic heap. Remus scowled slightly when he saw the title: “Higher Transformations: Unproven Theories.”

“A bit redundant, isn’t it? Aren’t all theories unproven? Isn’t the lack of definitive proof the reason they’re called theories?”

“Stop being pedantic and listen.” The old pages crackled against Sirius’ nimble fingers until he found the passage he sought. “ ‘Should a Polyanimagus take a particular form or favor one form above all others, he risks splitting his animal identity too finely, putting in jeopardy the primal and unique relationship already existing with his original Animagus, which, in turn, may result in incomplete or mangled transformations that may or may not be occasion of severe bodily harm, or, even should the transformations be completed to perfection, an increased mental strain or impairment caused by the extreme effort required to keep these multiple and repeated personifications separate, unless the wizard has sufficient strength of will and power of mind to overcome these difficulties.’ “

Sirius closed the book with a satisfying thump and tried in vain to hide his smirk at the disapproval on Remus’ face. “You’re just itching to grab a quill and start editing, aren’t you?”

“That was a run-on sentence of gargantuan proportions. Is the whole bloody book like that?”

“Pretty much.”

“And all you’ve gleaned from is it that powerful wizards might become successful Polyanimagi, assuming they don’t do themselves mortal physical damage or drive themselves mad in the process?”

“An excellent summation, Professor.”

But Remus had turned somber. Vague instructions and sketchy outlines made him deeply uneasy. But, the mental puzzle and the potential risk no doubt held a very strong appeal for his lover. 

“Are those other books any more reassuring?”

Sirius was silent for a moment.

“I can do this, Remus.” All his levity had vanished.

Remus stared hard at Sirius. Even though they’d discussed every step in the process, alone and with Dumbledore, he still worried about the possible dangers. But, his concerned frown gradually softened. This task was so important to Sirius on so many levels, not the least in its effects on his mental and emotional state. He finally had a task to perform that used some of his best abilities. And the change this had wrought in him from the man who’d spent long months locked up in Grimmauld Place was almost unnerving. He seemed totally different, so unlike the angry, bitter person he had been. 

Remus’ warm hazel eyes traced over the beloved face across the table. He saw strength and determination in Sirius’ lean features, as well as a certain hard-won wisdom. Even if that face never lost its gaunt cast; even if the clear gray eyes always mirrored more melancholy than laughter; even if the shadowy specters of his nightmares lurked just below the surface, Sirius still possessed a bruised beauty that pierced Remus’ heart…\\\\\\\

He smiled at the impotent howling of the wind from the comfortable hollow of his bed. They had not lingered long at the table, for Remus had felt compelled to rise from his chair and allow his fingers to follow the path his eyes had already traveled. Caresses led to kisses. Kisses led to bed. The wind picked up during the night, but its mournful dirge was no match for the satisfied moans and contented sighs that had escaped their lips. It could not touch them.


	2. The Potion Patient

“Well, cheers…”

And with a flourish, Sirius Black raised the goblet to his mouth. His head slowly tilted back as he downed the sludgy, pea-green potion in one long draught. When he was done, he licked his lips clean and grinned at the two men watching him.

“Who wants to bet on the exact moment that this stuff will make me violently ill?”

“Do you promise not to cheat by exaggerating or hiding your symptoms?” queried Albus Dumbledore with some interest.

Remus Lupin shook his head and sighed. It was easy for Dumbledore to joke. He hadn’t been present all those years ago. But Remus remembered the nerve-wracking night in fifth year when his friends drank the potion necessary to start them on their way to becoming Animagi. He had paced anxiously back and forth, watching them succumb one after another to varying degrees of illness as the potion’s insidious effects crept through their bodies, making bone and muscle and organs receptive to the radical change of bodily transformation. He had nearly bolted to the Hospital wing to summon Madame Pomfrey a dozen times that night. But, each time, Sirius or James or Peter prevented him, each insisting he was okay, that the mind-cracking headaches would pass, the knife-edged joint pains would cease, the dizziness, the muscle spasms, the fever, all would end. 

He wondered how badly Sirius would react to this new potion. He’d suffered for five long days and nights the first time around, much longer than either Peter or James. He had been the only one of the three who’d vomited repeatedly after the first two days of illness. Dragging himself to classes, pale and shaking and obviously very ill, Sirius had refused every effort by his professors to be sent to the Hospital Wing for fear that Madame Pomfrey would dose him with a concoction that might interfere with the Potion. 

Remus had done all he could to help nurse Sirius through his ordeal. But, Sirius had been a difficult patient, unwilling to admit to how much pain he was in, and ashamed of the weakness that would suddenly wash over him, leaving him almost completely incapable of taking care of himself. 

Remus, too, had felt awkward. The young werewolf had tried not to add to what he felt was Sirius’ totally misplaced shame. After all, if you’re too dizzy to walk to the bathroom under your own power, and your stomach insists on violently heaving out whatever is inside it, and an appropriate receptacle is not found quickly, a mess will be made. Remus was quite competent with cleaning charms, but that had not lessened Sirius’ mortification. 

Further complicating the situation was the necessity of touching Sirius. Helping him remove his clothes, bundling him into bed, wiping his brow with a cool compress to try to ease the fever. Remus had nursed all three of his friends to some degree, but close proximity to James and Peter had not made his pulse dance. 

Sirius was another matter entirely. Remus’ hands had had a will of their own, irresistibly drawn to the firm flesh and midnight hair of his very ill friend. And, though he tried to deny it to himself, the clear-thinking part of his brain calmly informed him whenever he let his hands linger on the sick teen’s body for more time than was strictly necessary. He had felt vaguely ashamed and deliciously thrilled at the same time.

Fifteen-year-old Remus Lupin had only just begun to sort through his emotions about Sirius Black. 

Now Remus pushed past the dimly erotic tone of his memory to recall how helpless he had felt, not knowing what to do as Sirius had suddenly writhed in agony from the potion, every muscle in his body contorting with the effort of not crying out. Remus remembered brushing a fall of black hair from Sirius’ face. Its pleasurable silkiness had seemed a cruel contrast to the pain wracking Sirius’ body. 

That hair had felt like heaven. Remus smiled at the memory.

“What are you so happy about? That I’m the one who’ll be puking his guts out over the next few days and not you?” Sirius’ bantering voice brought Remus back to the present. The werewolf’s smile widened as he lightly coiled his fingers through the ebony mane. “No, of course not. But, I’ll be here to take care of you.”

~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~

To their surprise, the effects of the Polyanimagus Potion were not nearly as violent as the Animagus Potion. The end result was that Sirius felt like the victim of a mildly annoying flu. However, his achy, tired, congested feverishness did not make him a docile and grateful patient. Instead, he settled firmly into restless irritability.

It was not one of his more endearing traits. After several days of listening to Sirius’ petulant complaints whining through the air like an unseen plague of mosquitoes, Remus decided to seize the occasion of a visit by Harry to go see Dumbledore. 

He gave Harry some parting words of advice. “Don’t take his grumbling to heart, Harry. Sirius has never been a good patient and he’s in an obstreperously foul mood today.”

Harry decided to fight surliness with unbridled bonhomie as he entered the bedroom.

“Feeling any better?” He asked in a loud, cheerful tone from the foot of the bed.

A muffled snarl emanated from beneath the comforter. “’Obstreperously foul’?” Sirius slapped back the bedclothes and glared up at Harry. “Why can’t he simply say I’m stroppy? Oh, no! It’s so much better to use six syllables rather than just two. He’s such an insufferable swot!”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no.’ Harry continued in his ear-cracking tone. “I’m going to make tea. Can I get you a cup?”

Why did healthy people always assume that illness automatically made one deaf? Upper lip curled, Sirius drew breath to snap off his godson’s head. With a visible effort, he held onto his temper. Barely. “Sure. Thanks.” A fit of sneezing sent him diving for his supply of tissues. 

By the time Harry returned, Sirius had struggled into a sitting position. He rested against the headboard, a bathrobe draped around his shoulders. Unshaven, his nose red from constant blowing, his hair a tangled nest, Sirius looked disreputable rather than sick, like a vagrant whose sustenance relied on too much alcohol and not enough food. But, his lips twitched into a rueful smile as he took the mug from Harry. 

“Thank you. Sorry I’m so disagreeable.”

Harry sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, propped against a bedpost. “It’s okay. I think there should be a law that says we’re entitled to be irritable when we’ve got flu.”

Sirius felt a sudden stab of shame at his continued truculence in the face of Harry’s understanding, not to mention Remus’ tender care. “I’m driving poor Remus mad,” he sighed. “He was ecstatic at the thought of escaping from me once you got here.”

“Well, maybe you should do something nice for him when you’re better.”

Harry saw a flash of some emotion sweep over his godfather’s face. “My opportunities to do something nice for him are a bit limited at the moment.”

“Chocolate is always good,” Harry affirmed. He grinned conspiratorially. “What if you gave him a couple of bars of Honeydukes’ best? And threw in one or two of their newest flavor? They have a mocha fudge bar that can make your teeth sing!” 

“There’s a Hogsmeade weekend coming up, isn’t there?” 

Harry nodded. “And I volunteer to be your chocolate procurer.”

Sirius smiled. “Accepted. I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”

Sirius slouched into his pillows, but his pale eyes stared unwaveringly at the teen. Harry was so like James in some ways and so completely different in others. Sirius silently thanked the powers beyond the veil for granting him his life, for giving him one more precious chance to get to know Harry better, to share part of his life with the son of his best friend. He swore he wouldn’t squander the opportunity. With perfect clarity, Sirius suddenly recalled a conversation he’d had with James and Lily, a conversation that had been lost in the murky, nightmare chill of Azkaban. He closed his eyes and once more heard his friends’ voices in his mind. 

When he opened them he found Harry watching him closely. “Are you alright? You sort of wandered off there for a second.”

“I just remembered a conversation I had with your parents.”

Sirius debated for a split second on whether to tell Harry or not. But, the look on the boy’s face was encouragement enough. In his mind’s eye Sirius suddenly saw James’ earnest, open expression emerging from the depths of his fractured memories and felt a sharp pang of loss. He waited for it to pass and then began.

“When they told me they wanted me to be the godfather of their child I tried to talk them out of it.” He cut off Harry’s startled response with a wave of his hand. “Not because of you. Because of me. I told them they were mad if they thought I could be responsible for a child, especially during a war. ‘Pick someone with a better chance for survival,’” I told them. “If you can’t do that, at the very least pick someone from a normal family.’ “

“And what did my parents say?”

With a faint bark of a laugh, Sirius said, “Oh, they sat back in their chairs and completely ignored me. They had themselves a right jolly time comparing notes on why I was the ideal candidate.”

He shook his tousled hair off his face and enumerated what he remembered of their game of verbal catch. “Sirius will shelter and protect our child. Assuming he doesn’t burn down the house while cooking dinner. He’ll foster curiosity and imagination. Thus causing our child to break or blow up all sorts of things in the aforementioned charred house. But, he’s good with healing charms, so he’ll be able to fix any damage that might result. Although we’re not sure how he’ll react to dirty diapers.”

He paused. “They went on and on until I got really aggravated.”

“Aggravated? You!?” Harry interjected with insincere shock.

“Oh, be quiet.” Sirius had the grace to look somewhat embarrassed. “I knew your parents were teasing but they were so casual that I felt they were tempting fate. So I started shouting at them. I leaped grandly onto my soapbox and proceeded to lecture them. They needed someone to provide a home for a child, not just a house. A person who’d be generous with affection and time, not just with money or possessions. God knows what other tripe I blathered at them. I’m sure I was quite insufferably patronizing.”

Harry stared into space until a wistful smile crept slowly over his features. His eyes snapped back to his godfather. “Well, maybe you were a little obnoxious about it, but your ideas make perfect sense to me.”

“James said something like that, in a rather smug tone. Your mum just sat there beaming at me as if I’d passed a very difficult test. I half expected her to pat me on the head and tell me what a good boy I was.” He chuckled. That he was increasingly able to recover the warmth of such memories still surprised Sirius. Thus, it came as a shock to see Harry frown. Sirius had thought Harry would appreciate this story. His growing dismay must have been visible, because Harry suddenly gave him a strained smile.

“I thought about us a lot after what happened at the Department of Mysteries.” Harry chewed briefly on his lower lip.

“My parents chose the right man. You’re one of a handful of people in the world who would drop everything and do whatever it took to help me, even risking your own life. Not because I’m the Boy Who Lived, but because I’m me. Just Harry. But, you’re the **only** one who understands what it’s like to be surrounded by people who mistrust you and misjudge you.”

“You can say that about Remus, too.”

“No,” Harry said, shaking his head determinedly, “it’s different for him. He came from a real family, didn’t he? He grew up with parents who cared about him, didn’t he? We didn’t have that. We were alone inside our families. We had to rely mostly on ourselves. Do you know what I mean?”

Sirius hesitated for a long moment before replying, “Yeah, Harry. I do.”

Not for the first time he was struck by Harry’s peculiar blend of maturity and vulnerability. His guts twisted with regret for the long, wasted years they had each suffered because of the wrong choices he had made. And then Harry surprised him again.

“Sirius, do you think it’s worse to grow up without your parents, or to grow up with parents who don’t care about you?”

The fever must still be affecting him, Sirius thought. How had they jumped so suddenly from discussing chocolate to examining the emotional poverty of their families? He really was an execrable godfather. Just as he was about to utter some falsely cheerful response, Sirius paused. Harry deserved honesty from him, even if that meant admitting he had no idea how to answer the question. Thankfully, his congested nose required attention, giving him a chance to collect his thoughts.

“I don’t know, Harry. For years I thought how great it would be if the Potters or the Lupins were my parents. I finally realized that wasn’t what I really wanted. I wanted my own mum and dad. I just couldn’t afford the price they demanded from me.” 

Sirius gave a wan smile. “But, I had other people who cared about me very much, even if they weren’t blood relatives. My closest friends, James’ parents. Even some of the professors here went far out of their way to help me, although I didn’t always realize it at the time.” His gaunt face darkened with the bitter remorse that always lingered under the surface. “Your parents loved you so very much, Harry. And I’m so sorry that you never got the chance to know them, to feel their affection. No child should have to grow up without being loved.”

Harry’s fingers picked at the bedspread. Then his head lifted and he eyed his godfather cautiously. “But, that’s how it was for you, too, wasn’t it?”

“I wasn’t unhappy when I was really young. It was only when l got a bit older and met other people’s parents I realized how distant and cold my parents could be. And, of course, the older I got and the more I questioned them, the less they liked me.”

Sirius was sketching the barest of outlines, Harry realized. But he knew in his heart that, although Sirius may have had all the creature comforts he desired, his childhood had been as barren of love as Harry’s own. Tentatively, Harry probed a bit further.

“It hurt, didn’t it?”

Sirius shifted against the headboard in a shrugged acknowledgement. “It hurt like hell. But I coped by turning it into anger.”

Harry nodded. His own fury sometimes flared almost out of control, even when directed at his friends. It was a betrayal, something that made his friendships seem less true that that shared by his father and Sirius. 

“You may have been angry, but at least you never took it out on my dad.”

“Oh, but I did,” responded Sirius, his voice dripping with self-derision. “I finally reached a point where I couldn’t deal with it. I couldn’t pretend anymore that it didn’t bother me, that it was all a big joke. I felt like everything was sliding out of control. I knew I was going to crash and burn, and I wanted to drag everyone else down in flames with me. What I set in motion when I told Snape how to get past the Whomping Willow could have…” Sirius silently shook his head. “I’m very lucky that the love my friends had for me withstood my own stupidity.”

Harry understood that feeling all too well. “I haven’t meant to put Ron and Hermione in danger, but I’ve done it. And, even so, they still back me up. They’re always there when I need them, even if sometimes they make me even angrier by trying to talk me out of things.”

“They’ve witnessed with their own eyes what it’s like to have Voldemort mucking about in your life. They risk your anger because they care about you. Your friends **are** your family. Hang on to them, Harry. Just be sure to apologize sincerely and profusely when you’ve been a total bastard, and try not to let it happen again. I’m experienced at that, so let me know if you need any help.”

Harry smiled. He felt a rush of affection for Sirius, appreciating that his godfather was willing to display his own mistakes for Harry’s sake. Then Harry’s thoughts went back to the earlier part of their talk. “So, when did you decide that being my godfather was okay?”

“I hate to admit it, but I managed to put the thought out of my mind for weeks at a time. Until, finally one muggy, overcast morning James very carefully placed this little, new-born bundle in my arms.” Sirius’ expression softened and his icy eyes gleamed like diamonds at the memory. “You were so small and helpless, with a crown of messy hair and skin soft as rose petals. You closed one tiny hand around the tip of my finger. And that was all it took. I fell hard for you, kid, and that’s never changed.”

No one had ever said anything quite like that to Harry. It temporarily severed the connection between his brain and his vocal chords. He struggled to regain the power of speech, but the best he could manage was a strangled, “Thanks.”

Judging by the smile on Sirius’ face, it was enough.

Another voice startled them. “You were deeply fascinating to him, Harry,” Remus commented as he entered the bedroom.

“Really?”

“Really. Sirius concocted an endless list of absurd reasons to pop in on your parents at all hours of the day. We saw right through them, of course, because we knew what he really wanted was to see you. He carried you about like you’d become another appendage.”

Harry glanced knowingly at his godfather. “Yeah, but I bet you handed me back to my mum when I cried or got fussy.”

“I most certainly did not!” Sirius declared with affront. “I was quite capable of curing your fussiness. Besides, you rarely cried or carried on, except when you were tired or hungry. Or when you needed changing.” 

Mischief bloomed across Sirius’ pale face. Harry saw the glance of unholy glee he shared with Remus. With dawning horror, it hit him. “Oh, no! **You** changed my diapers?!”

Sirius burst into laughter.

“You can’t tell anyone!”

“Oh, Harry, you should see yourself!” Sirius collapsed into a prolonged bout of coughing.

“Promise you won’t tell anyone!” Frantically, Harry turned to his former professor. “Remus! Make him promise!”

“Sirius, I believe we’ve found a chink in Harry’s armor,” Remus said, trying unsuccessfully to smother his own chuckles.

“You wouldn’t…I can’t believe…You both…” Harry sputtered in shock, which set Sirius off on another gale of laughter and coughing. Finally, Sirius raised his hands in mock surrender. 

“Okay, okay. We won’t use that against you, since you obviously find it so embarrassing.” Sirius glanced fondly back and forth between his companions. “You know, that’s the most fun I’ve had in days.”

~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~

Later that evening, a freshly bathed Sirius wandered into the sitting room, vigorously blowing his nose. Remus sat at one end of the sofa reading The Daily Prophet. The paper was tossed unceremoniously aside as Remus opened his arms invitingly. 

Sirius wasted no time in joining his lover. He gratefully curled into the treasured body and rested his head on a strong shoulder. Arms closed securely around him, and warm, soft lips placed a gentle kiss against his temple. 

“You’re so good to me, Re.”

“Even when you’re disagreeable?”

“Especially when I’m disagreeable.”

Remus gave a small huff of laughter, his breath warm across Sirius’ cheek. “Harry helped your mood, too.”

“True. Although I think I’m selfish with him.”

“How so?”

“It seems like we always end up talking about me. I’ve got to figure out how to get Harry to open up about what’s going on with him.”

“Well, I’m sure he likes being regaled with tales of your deeds when you ran wild through Hogwarts.”

“No, it’s not like that. He asks me questions. Uncomfortable questions.”

“About what?” Remus was surprised by this admission. He had always assumed that Sirius entertained Harry with stories about his and James’ exploits.

“About feeling alone. About families. About growing up with relatives who don’t care about you.” Sirius twisted within the circle of Remus’ arms to stare into the soft hazel eyes. “I wish I could make him happier, you know? He’s just a kid. He deserves to **be** a kid.”

“His life can’t be like any other teenager’s, Sirius. You know that.” Remus insistently tugged Sirius closer, wrapping his arms tightly around the lean body. “And, trust me, my love. Your return from beyond has made Harry very happy.”

“I know.” The tension slowly eased from Sirius’ body, chased away by Remus’ gentling hands. “I guess what bothers me is that I have no idea about how to be a father to him. I get nervous when he asks those questions because often I don’t have any answers.”

“Maybe Harry sees similarities between his own life and yours. Who better to understand? Ron, who comes from a large and loving family? Hermione? Dumbledore? Harry knows that, not only do you love him, but your own experiences give you insight into his feelings. ”

“I worry that I’m going to screw this up. I’m so afraid of making mistakes.”

“Oh, Sirius,” Remus chuckled. “Every parent makes mistakes. You always thought that the Potters and my parents were perfect.”

“They were, compared to my parents!”

“They made mistakes, too. We had our problems and fights.”

Sirius grumbled wordlessly. 

“You’ll make mistakes. You and Harry will argue and fight, and say awful, hateful things to each other. And, at the end of the day, you’ll patch it up because of the love you share.”

Sirius mulled this over. Remus was probably right, as usual. He’d have been a better choice as Harry’s godfather, Sirius thought, as he had countless times before. 

Tender lips pressing against his cheek interrupted his musings. They trailed slow kisses along his jaw. Fingers gently tilted Sirius’ head to bring his mouth into the perfect position to intercept the wandering lips and stop them for a long, firm kiss. 

“I’m a germ breeding ground, Remus,” Sirius admonished weakly. “You’ll get sick if you keep kissing me.”

“No, I won’t. The Potion made you ill. I’m immune.” 

Sirius was too tired to argue with him. “You’re good to me, Moony,” he mumbled, fighting against the warm drowsiness that stole over him.

“You’re repeating yourself. It must be time to tuck you in bed, my sleepy, congested crumpet.”

With a loud groan Sirius rolled onto his feet. He headed for the bedroom, picking up various bits of tissue on his way. 

“And it’s comforting to know that I can always find you by following your trail of used nose wipes,” Remus commented wryly.

Sirius answered with as much dignity as his handful of sodden tissues would allow. “I will use whatever tools I have on hand to prevent you from losing me.”

Remus’ smiled at that, with only a tinge of sadness.

Sirius slid under the covers with a contented sigh and watched his lover prepare for bed. There was something about the spare, precise movements of this routine that Sirius always found soothing. Remus was completely unselfconscious while stripping off and putting away his clothing under Sirius’ watchful eyes. Remus had never understood his lover’s fascination, but he liked how that warm, affectionate, gaze lingered on him.

Once he got into bed, Sirius burrowed close, encouraging Remus to once more gather him into a comfortable embrace.

“Re?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you ever thought about having children?”

“No, not really.”

“Why not?”

Tensing slightly, Remus wondered why Sirius always chose odd moments to bring up topics that Remus preferred to ignore. “I guess I’ve never felt it would be possible. And, once I realized I was gay, it seemed even more unlikely.”

“Being gay doesn’t preclude one from having children.”

Remus made an effort to keep his voice light. “Yes, but the Ministry regulates any potential breeding by werewolves.”

Sirius’ arms tightened about him. “The sodding Ministry is run by hidebound incompetents and malicious, power-hungry buffoons.”

Remus’ edginess vanished in the face of Sirius’ growl. He sometimes thought that his treatment by the Ministry bothered Sirius more than it did himself. With a sigh, his eyes closed and he relaxed, his fingers gently winnowing through Sirius’ hair.

But Sirius wasn’t ready to drop the subject. “I think you’d be a good father, Remus. And, yes, I know I have an idealized vision in my head about what a father should be. And, yes, I know no one is a perfect father. So, no, I’m not putting you on some sort of paternal pedestal.”

His sudden vehemence surprised Remus. “Does this have something to do with your discussions with Harry?”

“Sort of. His questions make me think about family and bloodlines and whatever.”

“Your tone suggests you’d rather not think about them.”

Sirius sighed. “My feelings about family have always been complicated. Or screwed up. It’s just that I’m the last Black and…oh, I don’t know. I’m too tired to talk about it now.”

In other words, he had been thinking about it but hadn’t yet sorted out his feelings. The last Black, Remus mused. Intriguing as this unexpected dynastic concern was, Remus knew better than to push for answers now. If it were truly important to him, Sirius would eventually raise the subject again. Instead, Remus curled a hand around the back of Sirius’ neck, brushing lightly across the delicate skin. “Well, I’m ready to listen whenever you’re ready to tell me.”

His lips found Sirius’ mouth, his kisses soft and sweet. When their lips parted Sirius said, “I love you quite madly, Remus Lupin. And don’t think I don’t appreciate you. I do, even if I am just a surly sack of snot these days.”

“You think you have problems, Paddy?” Remus nuzzled into his neck affectionately. “I have to **sleep** with a surly sack of snot.”


	3. Tiger, Tiger, Burning Bright

Fire. A basic element. Partner and enemy of humankind through all the ages of the world. Beautifully, fiercely powerful, yet with warmth like the tender caress of a lover. It mesmerized; each tongue of flame alive, dancing to its own rhythm while remaining part of the blazing corps de ballet. 

Flames reflected in Sirius’ eyes. He stared deep into the heart of the fireplace, letting himself slide into an almost hypnotic state. It was almost time. 

He chanted the incantation in his head, focusing on it like a mantra. Pushing all other thoughts aside he opened himself to his own power and bent it to his will. He felt it, tangible as his own flesh. He mastered it in the same way he controlled the power of his wand. It waited only for his command to be released.

And still, the words echoed in his mind until there was nothing else, just the words, the flames, and the power.

Remus sat motionless at the other end of the room. Maybe it was his imagination, but Sirius seemed to shine from within, as if the flames lit him up from the depths of his heart and soul. He watched the sensual lips move, and sometimes caught a whisper of words, tiny tendrils of sound laden with powerful magic. As he watched, Sirius’ eyes gradually closed, his lips stilled. He sat immobile in front of the fire, his entire aspect relaxed yet redolent with a hidden strength.

‘Tap-tap-tap,’ came a quiet knock on the door. Remus silently opened it, and let Albus Dumbledore inside. He said nothing in response to the old wizard’s questioning glance, but stood aside to let him see. They turned towards Sirius, who suddenly rose to his feet and faced them. He wore the same devilish grin Remus had seen so often in the past, when a perfect prank was about to be launched. But, the look in his lover’s eyes was deeper, bright as sunrise. Once more he murmured the incantation and suddenly, before them stood a tiger, a gorgeously intimidating tiger, the orange of his coat gleaming like molten copper. The golden eyes swept across them with a haughty expression, supreme in the knowledge that these mere men would never measure up to such feline perfection. The big cat yawned, displaying life- threatening teeth, and then eased into a luxuriant stretch that slowly rolled from the tips of his razor-sharp claws to the jaunty black tuft at the end of his tail. Remus had never seen anything so decadently powerful as this beast.

With calm, purposeful steps the tiger approached the dining table. His muscles bunched and uncoiled in an effortless leap onto its surface. He sank down along its length, massive head turning slowly back and forth as he swept his gaze from one man to the other. Remus picked up a quill and slowly flicked it from side to side. The cat’s eyes locked onto the movement, pupils dilating. Remus watched him tense like an overgrown tabby getting ready to pounce, the flaming coat rippling. Remus snapped the quill backwards.

The cat beat him. A fiery blur of movement and, with a solid thump, one giant paw pinned the hand to the table, claws pressing just hard enough to hold it still. Remus stared into the glowing eyes. The cat rumbled deep in his chest and sat up, releasing the defenseless human hand. As Remus slowly drew back the tiger vanished, replaced by Padfoot who wriggled up to Remus, claws skittering on the wood, lips drawn back in a sloppy canine grin. He leapt into Remus’ arms to slobber doggie kisses on the man’s face.

“Ooof!” Remus staggered backwards under the affectionate assault. He heard Dumbledore chuckle as Padfoot’s tongue was replaced by Sirius’ lips. Remus gasped for air as his breath was forced out of him by Sirius’ crushing embrace. 

“It worked! We’ve done it!” Sirius shouted. Remus laughed as he hugged his lover tight. He felt his own heart soar, not just at Sirius’ successful transformation, but at the expression of pure joy that lit up his face.

“You’ve done it, Sirius,” Dumbledore said. “We were merely advisors. The bulk of the work and all of the strength and power and will came from you. This is rare and exceedingly difficult magic, even for someone with your talents at Transfiguration. I salute you.”

“As do I,” Remus added, his arms tightening around Sirius once more.

Sirius grinned somewhat sheepishly at their praise. “Thanks. But you both helped me figure this out. I don’t think I could have done it on my own.”

Dumbledore’s brows arched in surprise. “I never had any doubts. You’ve always possessed a singular determination to accomplish tasks that you consider important.”

“Or interesting, even if they had no other point than to keep you amused or make the Slytherins look foolish,” Remus added, smiling.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Remus.” Sirius still had the ability to conjure up a perfect air of injured innocence. But his demeanor shifted rapidly. “However, I’ll need all the help you can give me about Wormtail’s possible hiding places.”

“I’ve got several Order members sifting through the rumors of the locations of Death Eater hide-outs,” Dumbledore said. “We know of several spots that need to be investigated.”

“Will I have to worry about running smack into a group of Aurors at any of these places?” Sirius’ tone was more curious than concerned.

A flicker of a frown crossed Dumbledore’s face. “Fudge is keeping the Aurors busy providing protection to places he considers at risk. He refuses to allow them to go on the offensive to try to prevent Voldemort from strengthening his forces. Amelia Bones, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, has had some screaming rows with Fudge about these misguided policies. Kingsley tells me that some Aurors are working on their own to try to discover what the Death Eaters are up to, but that those efforts are not well coordinated.”

“Besides,” Remus interjected, “even if they found a place where Wormtail might be hiding, only people like Tonks and Kingsley know to look for a rat. Everyone else still thinks Peter Pettigrew is a dead hero.”

Remus noted that, for once, the name of the traitor did not arouse the usual snarl from Sirius. The thrill of his accomplishment was too new and too intense for thoughts of their false friend to eclipse. 

“Sirius.”

Dumbledore’s tone was suddenly heavy and cold, like the solemn chime of a funereal church bell. Sirius stared at the Headmaster with a sudden feeling of dread.

“Your mission is to find Peter Pettigrew and return him to us. Nothing more.”

“I know,” Sirius acknowledged with a grimace. “I know that, even if I stumble across the chance to kill Voldemort in his sleep, I must spare him. I know his ultimate defeat must come at Harry’s hands.”

Sirius couldn’t hide the bitterness in his voice. The thought that he might have to turn his back on the opportunity to destroy Voldemort burned like bile in the back of his throat. Not because he’d have to ignore a shot to cover himself with glory. But, because Voldemort was Harry’s burden and Sirius could not protect his godson from that fate.

“I know you would gladly sacrifice your own life for Harry. Again.” Dumbledore said gently. “But Voldemort’s final destruction is Harry’s task. Should any of us seek to interfere, the unforeseen results could be disastrous. You will be in quite enough danger searching for Pettigrew.”

Eyes downcast, Sirius nodded in acquiescence. “I’ll limit my actions to Wormtail.” He meant it, Remus saw, even though it cost him to say so.

Dumbledore saw it, too. “We need you, Sirius. We need your imagination and your skill and your courage. I can’t fully use all those attributes unless you are a free man. Capturing Peter is the most important thing you can do for us right now.” 

A small smile played across the old wizard’s lips. “But, I’m also sure that you will bring us valuable information as a result of investigating these potential Death Eater lairs.”

“Let’s hope so. “ Sirius smiled coldly. “Maybe we’ll even be able to locate Bellatrix. I’m sure the Aurors would love to bring her in.”

~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ ****

Later, as they prepared for bed, a little flame of worry flickered at the back of Remus’ mind. Sirius would soon be traveling alone, far from the safety of Hogwarts, and beyond anyone’s aid. But, looking into his lover’s diamond-bright eyes, Remus silently stamped out his fears. Sirius glowed with a renewed sense of purpose. He stood straight and tall, his head held high. Remus hadn’t seen these aspects of Sirius at any time since his escape from Azkaban. What he witnessed now, Remus realized with gut-clenching clarity, was an escape from a different kind of prison. Sirius was freer in this moment than he’d been at any time since the Potters’ deaths.

Remus looked at him again, and saw an entirely different, but no less intense look smolder in those compelling eyes. They slid slowly and appreciatively down Remus’ body making him shiver. Silence enveloped them, broken only by the sound of their breathing. Sirius stood barefoot, belt unbuckled. His hands slowly opened his shirt, the elegant fingers lingering at every button. He eased the garment from the confines of his pants, so that it draped loosely around his body.

Remus’ lips parted slightly, his breath coming a bit faster. The sight of Sirius with his clothing in disarray was always intensely arousing, flooding his senses with the memory of their first shared sexual encounter, seventh year, in an empty room near the statute of the hump-backed witch. Sirius, sprawled on his back across a lumpy couch; his robes and shirt and trousers opened and tumbled around his long limbs. His lips bruised from the fierceness of their kisses, and his face radiant with a look of abandoned, wanton pleasure at what Remus had just done to him. 

Sirius closed the gap between them. Remus’ thoughts took flight as hungry lips pressed against his mouth and knowing hands explored his body. He leaned into Sirius, his own hands sliding inside the open shirt. Still a little too thin, but deliciously warm and inviting. Sirius deflected him, nudging Remus’ hands away while his own loosened buttons and clasps, freeing Remus from the restrictions of his clothing. And still they were silent, mouths fused together in a searching, endless kiss.

Every time Remus tried to slide Sirius’ shirt from his shoulders, his hands were batted away. Finally he gave up, contenting himself by raking his fingers through the shaggy, black hair and running his hands in long strokes down Sirius’ back. He moved in response to Sirius’ touch until he stood naked, muscles quivering in anticipation. Fingers once more woven together with strands of hair, white through black, Remus broke their kiss. He huffed with laughter into Sirius’ ear. “I’m allowed to play with your hair, but I’m not permitted to remove your clothes?”

Sirius chuckled, low and deep in the back of his throat. “That’s right,” he murmured against Remus’ neck. “Let me pleasure you, love.” His hips nudged insistently, forcing Remus backwards. The denim of his pants brushed maddeningly across Remus’ awakened cock.

“It would pleasure me to feel more of your skin against mine,” Remus persisted, rubbing against Sirius’ thigh. The edge of the mattress pressed against his legs. 

“Soon,” whispered Sirius. “Get on the bed.”

Remus’ lips met his lover’s as he climbed onto his knees on the bed. Fingers hooked into the waistband of Sirius’ pants, tugging insistently. 

Abruptly, Sirius stepped back, escaping Remus’ grasp. The hazel eyes widened and Remus’ suddenly kiss-deprived mouth formed a perfect ‘oh’ of surprise.

And then he was flat on his back, bowled over and pinned by what was surely the world’s most beautiful tiger. His hands lay trapped under the massive paws and the weight of the great beast held him motionless. The cat’s incandescent, feral eyes reflected the firelight.

“You’re gorgeous,” Remus whispered a bit uncertainly. He stared into the gold eyes and a shiver went through him. Padfoot’s pale eyes, so like Sirius’ own, were gone. There was nothing remotely like Padfoot or Sirius in this cat. 

The tiger’s head gently butted against Remus’ cheek, his whiskers tickling. A low rumble reverberated through the powerful body as the tiger tilted his head and, with a certain menacing delicacy, licked along the edge of Remus’ ear. The raspy feel and scratchy sound of the cat’s tongue sent tingles racing down his spine, swirling into his stomach. They intensified as the moist, tickly tongue swiped along his jaw and along the soft skin of his neck.

Remus’ breath hissed between his teeth as the tiger shifted, inching slowly backwards to expose more of Remus’ naked flesh to the ministrations of his tongue. It was the oddest sensation, warm and roughly soothing, until the tiger lapped at a nipple, the tiny spines chafing the aureole into a pebbly bud. Remus gasped and pushed up against the tiger, his hard cock pressing into the soft belly fur. The cat paused, his fiery gaze locked on the man below him, and Remus finally saw, as clear as starlight, something in that look that was purely Sirius.

He wormed his fingers into the thick ruff, scratching up the tiger’s neck and behind his rounded ears. The tiger shook him off, pausing in his licking to fix Remus with a heated stare. Remus’ arms flopped to the mattress as he submitted to the tiger’s will.

The cat’s tongue trailed lower down Remus’ body, scouring his navel and raking across his abdomen. Intent on his task, the tiger ignored the clenching of the man’s muscles as well as the straining rod of flesh vibrating near his face. Lower still the tongue tasted, sampling the scents and flavors of human skin. Wiry whiskers brushed against Remus’ cock, the sensation making him squirm. He ached for the rasping tongue to curl around his own heat, to scratch and tease his reddened, weeping shaft. 

But, the tiger was not yet done with his laving. The warm, rough ribbon insinuated itself into the crease at the top of Remus’ thigh and followed it down into thick curls. Remus raised himself up on his elbows to watch the tiger’s every move. His shallow breathing echoed in the room, a whispery counterpoint to the lapping tongue. The cat thrust his blunt nose into Remus’ groin and sniffed, savoring the musky scent pouring from the man’s body. Remus slid his legs open, offering himself to the tiger. 

A pleased purr bubbled up from the tiger’s chest. His head pushed against Remus’ thigh, spreading him wide. Hot breath enveloped Remus’ balls in a moist cloud. Remus clutched the bedclothes with a groan as the heat dissolved and solidified into the tongue curling around his sac. The crackling friction against his soft skin shot through his body and exploded in fireworks behind his eyelids. His hips bucked, pressing into the tiger’s face, demanding more. More heat, more licks, more raspy tingles over his balls and along his cock. 

He groaned, his hips moving to a rhythm driven by the tiger’s ministrations. The agile tongue swept up his cock. Wet and rough, it twisted over and around him in long licks that relished his taste. He fell back on the bed, moaning incoherently with pleasure, his hips arcing up to bury himself in the heat, reckless of the sharp teeth. 

Teeth that were suddenly sheathed behind agile lips slipping down, taking his whole length into a hot, smooth, man’s mouth. Silky suction tugged at him. He opened his eyes to see his cock slide again into Sirius’ mouth. Remus buried his hands in the black hair, pulling Sirius’ head down on his cock. Sirius sucked hard and deep, one hand tearing at his pants to finally strip them away. 

Remus twisted sideways, reaching for the straining erection that rose from the dark curls. He seized it at the base and squeezed his palm around it. The fingertips of his other hand tickled the vein that pulsed along the underside. Sirius’ muffled moan vibrated along his skin. Remus guided his lover’s cock to his mouth and slid his lips over it, taking as much of the shaft as he could. There was no time for finesse. He was so close, torturing himself by holding back, when all he wanted with every burning nerve was to thrust himself down his lover’s throat and come for all the dark hours of the night, until every drop of his essence was wrung free. 

A hand lightly squeezed his balls; just enough to bring him back from the edge. Remus’ hips stilled under the continued assault of Sirius’ sweet mouth and nimble tongue. The steady rhythm of the black head bobbing up and down his erection drove Remus to the same tempo. They fed on each other’s flesh, licking and suckling, willingly drowning in the dusky, powerful scents and tastes. And just as Remus felt he could wait no longer, the full balls at his hand tightened and drew up. One final squeeze from his lips and tongue and Sirius flooded his mouth, the salty, musky fluid coating his throat. With a muffled cry Remus’ came, too, his thoughts shattering into a million, blazing fragments.

Some time later, Remus’ mind returned to his body. He stirred and swung around on the bed. Propping himself up on one elbow he gazed down at Sirius. His lover’s eyes were closed. A stray drop of come glimmered like a pearl at one corner of his lips. He still wore his shirt, although it was pushed off one arm and twisted around him. 

“You look ravishing,” Remus murmured, touching a finger to Sirius’ mouth to wipe him clean. An agile tongue flicked out to help the finger sweep away the remnants of their passion.

“The gaunt, acetic look appeals to you, does it?” Sirius replied with a lazy grin that slowly spread up his face and crinkled his eyes open.

Eyes that were really much nicer than the tiger’s, Remus decided, especially when they focused on him with such deep affection. He leaned down to brush his lips against his lover’s. “You’ve always been very appealing.” 

His lips teased against Sirius’ mouth. “You’ll appeal to me even when you’re toothless and totally bald and so fat you can’t button up your clothes.”

Sirius laughed, which only served to give Remus a chance to press down against him and capture his mouth in deep, slow, languorous kisses. But something nibbled at the edge of Remus’ enjoyment. Abruptly he sat up, his gaze raking down his lover’s body. Sirius waited for a signal, his eyes heavy-lidded with lust. Giving him back stare for stare, Remus reached out to finger Sirius’ shirt. “Can we get rid of this now? I want you completely naked while I make love to you.”

With a sinuous roll, Sirius rose up and shrugged the shirt off. 

“Mmmm,” Remus growled, pushing his lover back down on the bed. ”Much better.”

~~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~**

His eyelids flew open as if burned by the brilliance gleaming in the eyes they cloaked. Sirius felt an almost uncontrollable, exuberant energy boiling inside. He had the strength of a hundred wizards. His nerves hummed with barely contained power. He wanted to explode out from under the covers and shout with joy. However, judging from the murky light peeping in at the windows, he’d be wise not to let his high spirits wake Remus at this early hour. 

Carefully, Sirius slipped out of bed and promptly turned into a fox. Twisting his head to look back at himself he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d developed an affinity for copper-colored coats. The fox trotted into the next room and eyed the window ledge. In an instant, Sirius stood at the window, contemplating the dawn landscape. He still felt like flinging himself into the air. He hadn’t yet attempted an avian transformation, but, well, why not?

Sirius opened the window. He sat on the ledge and concentrated, clearing his mind, funneling his energy towards that point deep within himself. He whispered the incantation. Instantaneously, his form shifted. He felt that split-second ripple fly through his body, changing everything. His balance, his weight, his senses. He felt lighter, his mass diminished somehow. Opening his eyes, the trees on the far edge of the grounds rushed towards him with dizzying speed, every branch and twig starkly discernable to his powerful vision. He hopped to the edge, looking down at the ground, which seemed a lot closer than it had to his human eyes. After a slight hesitation, he thrust himself down and out and spread his wings. A peregrine falcon took flight.

The raptor shot up into the cloudy sky, flying as if chased by furies from hell. He leveled off, his strong wings propelling him toward the horizon with frightening velocity. The rapidity at which he flew, the way the earth turned on its axis below him made him feel he could fly into the west and catch up with the retreating night. He suddenly banked hard, pivoting on a wingtip. His keen eyes caught a movement at the edge of a forest below. A mouse. Instinctively he folded his wings close to his body and dove, legs drawn up and ready to fire like pistons, talons spread to clutch fur and flesh. 

At the last second, the mouse sensed his approach and dove for cover into the underbrush. The falcon broke from his dive, powerful wings unfurling and he rose again into the sky. A harsh cry echoed over the landscape, not in anger at missing a meal, but with joy in the freedom of flight. 

He coasted and wheeled aimlessly over the countryside, sharp eyes effortlessly picking out the tiniest details of pebble and branch half a mile away. A strengthening breeze behind him sent him streaking like an arrow across the clouds. Tilting his wings let him soar motionless along the face of the wind, the earth speeding by below. He would never tire. He could stay aloft, unbound by gravity, floating free forever.

But the clouds thickened and it began to snow. Regretfully, the peregrine turned back towards Hogwarts and descended in slow spirals until he landed, a little clumsily, on the window ledge.

The window was firmly shut. The bird let out a fretful caw and rapped on the window with his beak. 

Inside, the room glowed with the warmth of many candles lit against the winter gloom. Remus glanced up and saw a handsome raptor staring balefully at him. The falcon again rapped on the glass. Remus slowly opened the window, eyeing the bird warily. “Do I know you?”

The bird gave a small flap of his wings and jumped down to the floor. As his feet hit the rug, Sirius reappeared.

“Of course you know me. Why did you close the window?”

“Because it’s December in Scotland!” 

But Remus couldn’t work up a good case of exasperation, not when faced with Sirius’ obvious joy. He grabbed Remus by the shoulders, launching on an excited tale of his flight, his words flowing and tripping over each other like the whirling tumult of the snowflakes flying past the window. 

“You have no idea how incredible it is to fly! To fly, Remus! To defy gravity without a broom! Without anything keeping you up there but yourself! I felt like I could soar among the stars!”

Remus almost ignored the words. They weren’t nearly as important as the emotion lighting up Sirius’ face. He overflowed with happiness. And with something else, too, though it took Remus a few seconds to figure it out. Hope. Happiness and hope, both of which Sirius had lived too long without. Remus found himself grinning back.

‘“Does this mean you’ll abandon Padfoot for Harvey the Hawk?”

Sirius’ brows dove in a sudden frown. “Don’t be daft. Besides, wouldn’t Moony miss Padfoot?”

“Yes, Moony hates it when Padfoot’s gone.”

A shadow loomed in the pale eyes. Remus chased it away with a kiss. “Just promise me I won’t wake up to find a warthog in my bed. I much prefer Padfoot.”

“Then you shall have Padfoot,” Sirius smiled suggestively. “Although, you rather liked that tiger, too.”

Remus cuffed Sirius’ shoulder. “If you’re giving me a choice, I prefer you* to any other being.”

Slowly, Sirius’ smile brightened. “You’ve got me. Any time you want me.”


	4. Missteps and Misunderstandings

The room swirled around him in dizzying streaks of flying colors, as if solid matter had liquefied by the force of his transformation. The floor heaved dangerously under his feet.

“Sirius?” A familiar, concerned voice called from a great distance.

A dark slash that was possibly the bedroom door wavered in front of him. If he could just get to the bed and lie down, he’d be okay. He lurched forward. 

It was one movement too many. The zig-zagging colors crashed down on him with the weight of a falling tree, driving him into darkness.

~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~

A gradually rising tide of consciousness floated Sirius Black into awareness. His head rested on a pillow. He was lying on the sofa. He blinked several times to force the face hovering above him into focus.

“Evidently you need a little more practice with that.” Remus Lupin’s calm voice belied his worried expression. 

“How long have I been out?”

“About fifteen minutes.”

“Did anything feel wrong before you transformed back into human form?” Albus Dumbledore walked into Sirius’ shaky vision.

The prone wizard considered this. “No. I was fine up until I transformed. Then everything started spinning and I felt like I was going to faint.”

“A remarkably accurate prediction,” Remus commented.

“It’s nothing to worry about, Moony.”

“Remus tells me this isn’t the first time you’ve passed out after transforming,” Dumbledore said. “Are there any other problems I should know about?”

Glowering, Sirius struggled upright. “I’ve had a little difficulty transforming back to human form with one or two animals, but I’ve been able to successfully transform into whatever I chose.” 

“A little difficulty? You’ve blacked out three times that I know about,” Remus interjected. “You’ve refused to say whether this has happened while you’ve been out there looking for Wormtail.”

“I’ve already said it’s nothing to worry about. I can take other animal forms easily now. I can do it without having to chant the incantation,” Sirius insisted, lurching to his feet. “Surely if there had been something wrong with the potion or with any other part of my preparation, I wouldn’t have successfully changed into anything other than Padfoot!”

Dumbledore ignored his outburst. “You’ve left Hogwarts twice on trips to hunt for Peter Pettigrew. Has this happened on either of those occasions?”

“No. I know what forms give me trouble and I’ve avoided transforming into them.” Sirius wanted to pace off his growing annoyance, but realized he couldn’t trust his body not to betray him. Worse, he knew that Remus knew it, too.

“Which other animals caused you problems?” Dumbledore asked.

“One or two,” Sirius repeated.

“A mouse, a squirrel, and, now, a sparrow,” Remus replied to the Headmaster’s question. Sirius shot him a murderous look. Remus ignored it. “And you were wobbly transforming back from a toad, too.”

“All of them are small animals,” Dumbledore mused. The old wizard stood silent, deep in thought. He glanced at Sirius. The younger man would not meet his gaze, but stood rigid in the center of the room, arms folded across his chest

Finally Dumbledore spoke. “I know we all agreed that your preparations for the Polyanimagus transformation were impeccable. We were satisfied that the potion was brewed correctly and the incantations were proper. But, this development concerns me deeply.”

Sirius still said nothing.

“Please turn into a lion.” Dumbledore requested gently.

With a flash of fire in his eyes, Sirius complied.

“Now please change back,” said Dumbledore. 

Sirius stood before them, perfectly composed.

“Let’s see a snake.”

A python lay on the floor, his hooded head rising from his coils. In the next instant Sirius was back, with no ill effects.

“And now a chipmunk, please.”

The little rodent cocked its head back to look at them, its small, bright eyes flitting from one man to the other. 

“Change back.”

Sirius reappeared and swayed on his feet. His hand shot out to brace himself on the back of a chair. Remus tried to guide him into it but Sirius shook him off, staying upright through sheer willpower.

“You could always avoid changing into small animals,” Remus offered half-heartedly, knowing what the response would be.

“No.” Sirius spoke with finality. “I’ll need to take a small size to get into some places.” 

“Agreed,” Dumbledore interjected, “but this reaction could put you in grave danger. Imagine what would happen if you are in the form of a small animal when you find Peter and need to shift back into Sirius. You’d be helpless against him.”

Sirius growled under his breath. “It’s only some animals. I avoid taking their forms when I’m away from Hogwarts.”

Remus spoke cautiously, trying to hide any trace of accusation or concern in his voice. “But, can you rely on only those animals you know from experience don’t cause this reaction? Can you be sure that you won’t be faced with a situation where you’ll have to transform out of an animal form that you haven’t previously attempted in the safety of Hogwarts?”

”Well, maybe I should spend my spare time practicing transforming into every life form known to man, just to figure out what I’m incapable of,” Sirius snapped.

Dumbledore quietly interrupted. “I propose that you curtail any more searching for Peter until we’ve reviewed everything. We’ll examine the entire Polyanimagus process step by step; the theory, the potion, the incantation, the mental preparation and application of your magic. Let’s see if we can find anything that refers to the relative size of animals. That seems to be the root of the problem.”

Sirius shrugged, and said no more, but Remus could see annoyance in the set of his mouth. Dumbledore excused himself and left.

Remus rose from his seat. “I hope you’re not angry-“

“Why did you tell him?” Sirius’ voice was ominously calm.

“I’m concerned about you.”

“You think I can’t handle this.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. But, you’ve passed out several-“

“You think I’m going to screw this up, don’t you? That I’m not powerful enough anymore to maintain this level of magic.” 

“Of course not! But, it can’t hurt to review everything just to make sure that-”

“That rash, reckless, irresponsible Sirius doesn’t make this task blow up in his own face! Again!”

“Cut it out!” Remus flared, his voice rising with anger. “Don’t lose your temper with me because I asked Dumbledore for help. He knows more than both of us put together, and you think we should ignore that? Why? Because you’re embarrassed to ask for help? Because you think it makes you look weak? Why?”

Sirius whirled around to face him, his face livid with impotent fury. “Because I’ve been worthless for fifteen years! Because finally the chance to change my life is in my own hands! And, if I fail, he’ll lock me up again!”

Remus glared at Sirius. “What the hell are you talking about? You proved you can do this! No one wants to stop you! We’re only trying to ensure your safety!” 

“Safety! With Voldemort and his murderers on the loose? Even if you’re locked up in a hidden prison, there is no fucking safety! Christ Almighty, didn’t the last war teach you anything?”

The color drained from Remus’ face. “Oh, yes. Yes, it did. And I’ll carry the scars of those lessons to my grave.” He trembled with the effort to keep control and his voice dropped to a strained whisper. “You’re not the only one who’s suffered, Sirius. You’re not the only one who’s still paying the price for past mistakes.” He swallowed, nearly choking on his emotions. “I lost you twice. Both times, I thought you were gone forever and that I’d live for the rest of my life with this great, gaping hole in my heart. If you think for one fucking moment that I’m not going to fight with all the strength I have to do whatever I can to keep you safe, then –“

He threw up his hands in frustration and waited for the explosion.

But Sirius said nothing, retreating behind an impassive façade.

It was not at all the reaction Remus wanted. He spun around and stalked out of the room. Sometimes there was no talking to Sirius. Making him see another point of view when he was set on a course of action was like trying to stop a wildfire with a watering can. Remus flung himself into a chair in the bedroom. He’d read for a while and then go to bed. 

But, after forty-five fruitless minutes, he gave up. His anger, as always rare to emerge and quick to pass, was gone. He was left now with uneasiness squirming in his gut and a book in his hands that made no sense. The words swam in front of his eyes like smudged hieroglyphics. Remus shut the book and listened, aware that he hadn’t heard a sound from Sirius’ direction in quite a while.

With a sigh, he rose and went to rejoin his lover, who was no doubt staring into the fire brooding or sulking. Remus knew he’d feel guilty about the first and annoyed about the second, but he determined they’d finish hashing this out, no matter what.

Sirius was not parked in front of the fire. He was in the next room at the table, books piled around him. Cautiously, Remus approached. “What are you doing?”

Sirius looked up at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, his voice snapping consonants like twigs, he said, “As instructed, I’m pulling together everything I can find about transformation problems or mentions of side effects.” His eyes dropped back to the book in front of him. 

Remus stood still, considering. “Can I help?”

After a short silence, Sirius replied, “Sure.”

His voice, like his face, was devoid of emotion. But, although he showed no enthusiasm at Remus’ reappearance, Remus decided nonetheless to treat this as an invitation. He sat down and grabbed a book off the top of the nearest stack.

“Stop.” The word thudded like a rock hurled onto the table. Remus tensed, bracing for Sirius’ lingering anger.

“The books in that group have no tables of contents and no indices. I’ve at least skimmed through them already so I’ll be able to find anything relevant more quickly than by having you start from scratch. Why don’t you look through these instead?” 

Sirius pushed several books to Remus’ side of the table. Something changed in the lean face, some infinitesimal relaxation. Remus felt his own tension ease as he picked up the first book. He started pouring through the index.

“Thank you,” Sirius said in a much gentler tone.

Remus nodded.

Time passed in companionable quiet occasionally broken by questions or tentative thoughts on their research. Once they felt they had made a good dent in their efforts, the idea of a good night’s sleep became very appealing.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said as they prepared for bed. 

“It’s okay. “

“No, it’s not okay. I get so wrapped up in my own problems that sometimes I forget how they affect you. You deserve better from me.”

Remus stepped close to Sirius, looking steadfastly into the stormy eyes. “You’re forgiven.” 

Tentatively, Sirius’ hands rested on Remus’ waist and Remus leaned into him, happy to feel Sirius’ arms encircle him. His own arms locked around Sirius’ neck. “I’m sorry, too, Sirius. I was so desolate without you that now I have you back, I **do** want to lock you up to keep you safe from anything that might take you away from me again. Even if it wounds you. Even though I saw with my own eyes how imprisoning you at Grimmauld Place made you bleed.”

“It’s more than that, Remus. It’s one thing to be hidden away, but it’s another to be locked up with no purpose in your life. It’s like being strangled an inch at a time. I’m useless. I haven’t been able to do my part in this battle. Or to share in the risks and dangers that both you and Harry face. Or even to make decisions about my own life. I stay behind, safe and sheltered, like a favorite toy. But, I die a little every day.”

Remus’ arms tightened around Sirius. “It hurt so much when I lost you to the death that was Azkaban. I didn’t think anything could be worse than that. But, you came back. And I fell in love with you all over again, in spite of everything we’d both suffered, only to watch you go through that veil and know you were gone forever. I wanted to follow you, to die with you.”

The dark memory of feeling his heart ripped out chilled Remus to the bone. “Now I always have a cold fear in the pit of my stomach that I’ll lose you again. When you’re looking for Wormtail, you’re out there alone. I know your animal forms can protect you, but what if something unexpected happens? What if you’re caught or trapped? You’re beyond our help. They could kill you and I might never know how or where. Maybe I’d never even find your body to bury.” 

Wearily, Remus rested his head against Sirius’ shoulder. “I know in my heart you have to do this, but, God, I’m so afraid of losing you. I don’t think I can bear it a third time.”

His arms falling to his sides, Sirius pulled away. Slowly, like a man walking to the gallows, he went to the fireplace. He stood silently for a long time. Then suddenly sweeping his hair out of his eyes with one hand, he turned to Remus, anguish etched into the fine bones of his face. “All I can honestly promise you is that I won’t take unnecessary chances. But, I can’t promise that I won’t be in danger or that something couldn’t go terribly wrong. I don’t know what else to say, Remus.”

They stood and stared at each other, knowing that they were at an impasse, knowing, too, that, each wanted desperately not to hurt the other, not to add to wounds that had already been borne for years. 

The silence stretched until finally Sirius whispered, “Tell me if I’m asking too much from you. If this is too high a price for you to pay, tell me, and I won’t do it. It stops now.”

He looked so vulnerable in the firelight. He had lost almost everything. His beauty, his reputation, his sense of himself. He had made a mistake and had been tortured for it for long, lost years. Alone, he had fought to keep his sanity. Alone, he had rescued himself. Alone. Always alone. And now he offered to place himself in another prison and hand Remus the key. 

Remus slowly shook his head. “No.” His breath caught in his throat. “No.”

He closed the distance between them, his hands seeking the familiar contours of the lean body. “We’ll figure this out, and you’ll find Wormtail and bring him back. And set yourself free.”

They stood silently clasped in each other’s arms for a long time, until finally they shifted and moved just enough for their lips to meet in a lingering kiss. It was a seal, a promise to do better for each other. Their angry words vanished, leaving only a faint echo in their hearts. But once anger left, the kisses shared in the aftermath always tasted sweet.

Remus drew back slightly, his hands framing Sirius’ face. “I’m still going to worry about you, no matter what.”

One side of his lover’s mouth tilted up in a lopsided smile. “I promise to be as careful as I possibly can.”

Remus kissed the corner of those upturned lips. His arms once more pulled Sirius close. He felt so solid, so real that for a few seconds Remus almost believed he’d never fallen through the veil. Remus’ eyes closed as he gave himself over to the caresses of his lover’s elegant hands. Fingers slowly combed through his hair, relishing the fine-spun texture. Words lost their importance, as thoughts were expressed only through touch, through hands and lips and the press of flesh against flesh. And through deep, full kisses, sweeter than the fruits of Eden.


	5. The Answer to the Question

Remus was tired. Very tired. Bodily, emotionally, mentally. He was so tired, his hair hurt. His brain seemed to have all the acuity of a bowl of porridge. And his heart…Well, his heart felt bruised, every beat thudding painfully within his chest. The physical exhaustion of his transformations was preferable to the utterly sapped feeling he currently suffered. He was so emotionally and mentally wrung out that it was an effort to merely sit upright in the chair in Dumbledore’s office.

He had spent days trying to convince one werewolf after another to support the very government that treated them like vermin. He hadn’t made much progress. Fortified though he had been with his own experiences and with the benefit of his logical, orderly mind, his attempts at discussion had too often plummeted into confrontation. Some werewolves met his advances with fear. A greater number hid behind apathetic neutrality. But, the majority hurled their anger into his face. Remus used all the weapons he had to persuade them to at least consider joining in the fight. He’d exposed his own wounds and his deepest fears. And though he often saw recognition in the eyes of those other werewolves, almost all of them rejected his pleas. He feared that some of them, embittered and impoverished, were ripe for Voldemort’s blandishments, if for no other reason than to be able to strike back at those who oppressed them.

Remus didn’t like failure. This task, the one for which the Order felt he was uniquely suited, had proved almost impossible. When reporting back to Dumbledore he had felt like a schoolboy who had no acceptable excuse as to why he hadn’t completed his assignments. His few successes came nowhere near to balancing the ledger of his losses. 

God, he was tired. All he wanted was to return to the rooms he’d left a week ago and collapse into bed. He wanted to fall asleep, with Sirius’ comforting body curled protectively around him, listening to whispered endearments and falling under the spell of tender, magic hands. 

He certainly didn’t want an encounter with Severus Snape. And, by the looks of things, his past nemesis and present ally was not pleased by his presence, either. Yet, here he sat, at Albus’ request, while Snape answered and asked questions about the uncommon formula written in Remus’ elegant script on a scrap of parchment.

Remus stared idly out the window with the air of a man lost in a daydream or mesmerized by the cloudy sky. He ignored the sharp glances that occasionally whipped his way, although he could almost hear the snaps as they connected with his face. 

Dumbledore sat patiently behind his desk, waiting while Snape examined the recipe Sirius had developed, and Remus had transcribed, for the Polyanimagus Potion. 

With one final pointed stare at Remus, Severus Snape spoke. “This is obviously a formula for a potion designed for an animal transformation.”

His unreadable black eyes flicked between Dumbledore and Remus, but both men remained silent. Snape again studied the ingredients. A faint flicker of a smile crossed his face. “It hints at the Animagus potion, but its scope is far beyond that. It’s too complex, too subtle to be the Animagus. This is a Polyanimagus Potion.”

“Are the ingredients and their amounts correct?” Dumbledore inquired.

“This formula is designed towards allowing a human wizard who’s Animagus is a mammal to be able to transform into other life forms. I hesitate to guess what it would do to non-humans.” Snape glanced again at Remus. “Tell me, Lupin. Is the Wolfsbane Potion not enough of a gift for you? Do you now want to experiment with this concoction to see if you can transform your monster into something more acceptable?”

“No.” Remus replied, keeping his expression blank.

“That’s a comfort. Knowing, as I do, your barely adequate skills at Potions, the idea of you trying your hand at brewing something this complicated is a nightmare to be avoided at all costs. I’d hate to have to try to create an antidote to whatever poison with which you managed to dose yourself.”

Dumbledore quietly cleared his throat and repeated, “Are the ingredients and their amounts correct?” 

Snape grudgingly turned from Remus. “The proportions as written here seem logical, but if they are not brewed with care and precision, the potion would be useless or dangerous. I could be more definitive if I knew exactly what you plan to do with this. The formula has all the hallmarks of something designed for a specific person, or should I say, beast.”

Remus wondered if Snape was telling the complete truth or if he was fishing for information that he sensed Dumbledore was unwilling to impart. 

Dumbledore smiled. “Severus, I’m quite sure the person who developed this particular formula knows the necessity for paying strict attention when creating complex potions.”

Snape sat back in his chair nodding slightly, as if Dumbledore’s words confirmed his suspicions. “I assume this is for an existing Animagus and not for some other creature.”

A flame of annoyance swept over Remus. “I’ve already said that it is not for me.”

“Yes, Lupin, I believe we’ve established that fact,” Snape replied dismissively. His deep, dark eyes turned again to the Headmaster. “I’d say that these ingredients would enable a mammal Animagus to become a Polyanimagus, assuming that the witch or wizard in question is sufficiently skilled and powerful. But, the proportions are designed for a moderately-sized mammal.”

He rose from his chair and waved the parchment at Dumbledore. “These proportions will not work correctly on an elephant-sized Animagus. Nor will they work on a small animal like a cat. This isn’t for Professor McGonagall, is it?” 

“Moderately-sized, you say?” Dumbledore asked. “Such as a pony? Or a sheepdog?”

“Or a wolf?” Remus interjected.

Snape’s head whipped around to face Remus. “Yes,” His voice was barely about a whisper. “Just that size.”

“And is there anything in that formula that would indicate a problem for this moderately-sized Animagus to transform into animals that were much larger or smaller than the original Animagus form?” Dumbledore gently forced Snape’s attention back.

Almost unwillingly, Snape again looked at the parchment. “I see nothing that would indicate any problem with size, but I’d be more confident in that assessment if I knew all the facts.”

Dumbledore rose from his desk with a warm smile. “Thank you, Severus. Your expertise has once again proven to be invaluable.”

He moved towards the door to usher Snape out. For a few seconds the Potions Master stood motionless, unwilling to be dismissed without having his unspoken questions answered. But Remus had turned his attention back to the clouds and Dumbledore quite clearly had no intentions of saying any more. Lips thinned to a straight, hard line, Snape left.

~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~**

Harry walked slowly away from Ron and Hermione, acting as if he was in no hurry to get to his advanced training from Albus Dumbledore. But once he turned the corner, he broke into an exuberant sprint, suppressing the niggling feeling of guilt he always got when lying to his friends. For today, he had no lessons with Dumbledore. Today, he was free to spend that time with Sirius. 

And, it was possible that he might have Sirius all to himself. After Christmas, Remus had made frequent trips away from Hogwarts on Order business. Not that Harry minded when both men were present for his visits, but it felt special to have Sirius’ undivided attention. Harry squelched another frisson of guilt.

Of late, though, and much to Harry’s astonishment, Sirius, too had occasionally left Hogwarts. It worried Harry and the boy knew that Remus worried, too. But both men thought that Sirius’ task was worth whatever risks he ran. Dumbledore obviously thought so, too. 

On the other hand, whatever Sirius was up to seemed to be good for him. For the first time since Harry had met him, his godfather seemed truly happy. Harry believed he was finally getting to know Sirius, the complete person, the man who had been his father’s brother, in spirit if not in blood. Harry sensed hidden strengths under the surface that he couldn’t quite identify. He knew that Sirius was smart and clever, but only recently had he begun to sense that his godfather was a truly gifted wizard. 

The spiral staircase carried him upwards. Harry now entered the rooms down the hidden corridor with considerably more caution than he had originally shown. Remus sometimes returned earlier than expected from his trips and this was cause for celebration. Sexual celebration. 

Harry grimaced as he remembered one time in particular when he’d casually strode in looking for Sirius. His godfather hadn’t been sipping tea in the front room, or lounging in the sitting room. Harry had poked his head into the bedroom to see if perhaps Sirius was napping. Sirius had indeed been asleep but he had not been alone. 

He had also not been clothed. 

The trail of hastily discarded clothing and kicked-off shoes had led Harry’s eyes arrow-straight to the bed. He’d immediately jumped backwards, not wanting to see anymore. His mouth had clamped shut, his teeth catching his unwary tongue by surprise. Smarting from the pain, Harry had stood uncertainly just outside the bedroom door. He really didn’t want to see this, did he? 

Curiosity defeated discretion. Harry had gingerly peeked around the doorframe and again jerked back like a mop-crested bird shying nervously away from potential predators. The predators in question weren’t moving and Harry heard nothing; no sighs or moans and, thankfully, no cries of passion.

But the vision of the two men sprawled across the bed had seared his brain like a flash of lightning. The skin of their entwined, pale limbs shone against the burgundy bedspread. Remus, half-draped across Sirius. A hand tangled in tawny-gray hair. Another resting on a smooth curve of buttock. One black sock, incongruously lingering on Remus’ foot, its fabric threadbare at the heel. 

Harry had made a mental note about Christmas gifts and tiptoed away. It was all well and good for Sirius to advise him not to barge into the bedroom if the door was shut. But that meant one of those supposedly responsible adults had to remember to close it before they sprang merrily into bed.

Now Harry entered his godfather’s rooms and, with some trepidation, didn’t immediately note Sirius’ presence. The window in the front room was wide open and the frigid air poured in like the sea crashing through a dike. Harry closed the window quietly and paused, all his senses straining, trying to detect the presence of at least one person, if not two. Everything was silent. He walked cautiously towards the bedroom. 

And saw his godfather crumpled in the doorway.

“Sirius!” Harry yelled in panic, flying across the room and dropping to his knees next to the prone body.

“Oh, hello, Harry. I didn’t hear you come in.” Sirius replied conversationally, as if he was in the habit of chatting while lying flat on the floor. However, his eyes remained shut and his face had the pallor of sickness. 

“What happened? Are you alright?”

“Umm…Nothing happened. I just had some difficulty with…with a certain type of magic. Made me a bit dizzy, that’s all.”

“What kind of magic?” Harry’s suspicion was evident to Sirius, even with his eyes closed. He ignored the question.

“Do you think you could help me get to the bed?”

Harry was glad of the extra inches he’d grown over the last six months, otherwise Sirius would have been rather overbalanced when leaning on Harry’s slim shoulders. They made it across the room without mishap and Sirius sank gratefully onto the mattress.

Hands on his hips, a slight scowl on his face, Harry said, “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“What kind of magic did this to you? Were you lying on the floor when you tried it or did you fall over because of it?”

Hearing the note of concern under the sarcasm, Sirius warily opened his eyes, but then couldn’t decide which of the three Harrys he saw was the one on which he should focus. He arbitrarily picked one. “If you insist on knowing, I fell over because of it. Stop worrying. It’ll pass in a little while.”

“I’m over here,” Harry waved a hand in the air, wondering why Sirius seemed to be speaking to someone to his left. 

Letting his eyes drop shut, Sirius grumbled. “I knew I’d pick the wrong one.”

Befuddled, Harry wished Remus was here to translate. “Maybe I should get Dumbledore.”

“That’s **Headmaster** Dumbledore,” Sirius corrected, sounding uncannily like his lover. “And, no, don’t bother him. I swear to you, Harry, I’ll be fine soon. The dizziness makes me see double, but I’ll be alright in a bit.” Sirius hoped this small lie would ease Harry’s concern. He felt the mattress tilt as his godson perched at the edge of the bed.

“Okay. But, you can at least give me a hint about what you’re doing, can’t you?”

Sirius smiled at the change of tactics. “You wheedle just like your father used to do when he thought I was hiding things from him.”

“And since you were best friends, you’d tell him, right?”

“Wrong. But you get points for trying.”

As Sirius’ face had regained some of its normal color and he wasn’t showing signs of testiness at Harry’s questions, the teen decided to keep trying. His tone light, he asked, “Is what you’re doing dangerous? Can you at least tell me that?”

The pale eyes opened again, and this time looked directly him. “What I’m doing is not at all dangerous. I currently have a slight problem in using particular facets of this type of magic, but I know I’ll eventually figure out what I’m doing wrong.”

There. He hadn’t exactly lied to Harry; he had simply mangled the truth a bit in an effort to reassure his godson. After all, it wasn’t dangerous to transform into a chicken; it would only be dangerous to transform back to himself while in the presence of one or more Death Eaters.

“Well, that doesn’t sound too bad,” Harry conceded. But, then he tried a different tack. “I’ve developed into a pretty good Occlumens, you know. Even Dumbledore…umm, I mean Headmaster Dumbledore, says so. Are you sure you can’t trust me with this?”

All in all, it was a reasonable request presented in a mature fashion with only a touch of manipulation, what with bringing Dumbledore’s name into things and phrasing it as a matter of trust between the two of them. 

Sirius chose his words carefully. “I respect your ever-increasing abilities at Occlumency. But you’re already being asked to shield a great deal from Voldemort’s intrusion. Plus I’ve put you in the position of having to keep secrets from your friends. At this point, I don’t think we should add to that by giving you something else to hide. It’s not fair, but a lot of things about this war with Voldemort won’t be fair.” 

Harry said nothing, so Sirius decided to resort to a little manipulation of his own. “You know I hate keeping information from you, Harry. Albus has threatened more than once to remove my tongue from my head if I didn’t shut up. But there’s simply no other way around this, at least for now. Please trust me to keep this particular secret from you for a little while longer.”

Harry gave his godfather a mild glare. “Sure, turn that trust thing back on me. You don’t play fair.”

“I know. Think of it as a form of benign parental ruthlessness.”

Harry didn’t respond right away. Sirius didn’t press him. Finally, Harry nodded in grudging acquiescence.

Sirius decided to toss caution out the window and rose to his feet. Apparently the gods were on his side today, as his dizziness did not return. And the mere fact that he stood upright and didn’t sway alarmingly in one direction or another was enough to make Harry relax.

As they strolled back into the sitting room Sirius decided it was high time to introduce a new subject. “Did your friends think it was odd that your training sessions with Dumbledore continued through the holidays?”

“No, they thought it made sense. Especially Hermione. She said the Death Eaters and Voldemort probably didn’t stop for plum pudding so why should I?”

“A right slave-driver, isn’t she?” Sirius chuckled. “Can you imagine what she’d be like as a Professor? She’d out-McGonagall McGonagall.”

Harry snorted. “She’d be scary. No, she’s already scary. She’d be terrifying.” He warmed to his subject. “I bet if she became an Animagus, she wouldn’t be a nice, little tabby cat. Oh, no, not Hermione. She’d be something that looks pretty, but that could still rip you to pieces.”

“She’d have claws and fangs?”

“Oh, yeah. And Professor Granger would look at her students like they were prey, even seventh year boys who were bigger than she was. Size wouldn’t matter to her.”

“Maybe she could even out-intimidate Snape. I’d pay to see that.” The smile froze on Sirius’ face as Harry’s words suddenly clicked. Size. Prey. 

“That’s it,” he breathed, with a slightly manic gleam in his eyes. “Prey versus predator. Size has nothing to do with it.”

“Sirius?” Harry eyed him warily, thinking that maybe his godfather would be better off lying down.

Sirius threw back his head and burst into laughter, a full-throated, joyous laughter that Harry had never before heard from him. His surprise at his godfather’s delight turned to concern for his own good health, as Sirius suddenly seized him in a hug that threatened to crush his ribs.

When he finally let go, still faintly chortling while Harry gasped for breath, Sirius said, “No, I haven’t taken leave of my senses. You said something that gave me the key to a puzzle that’s had us stumped. But, now I think I have the answer.”

“Tell me?”

“Soon. I promise. If this really solves the mystery, then soon a lot of things will change.”

Harry persisted. “Change for who? You? Me? The Order?”

But, no matter how Harry pried and pleaded, that was all the information Sirius would give him.

~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~

Dumbledore leaned forward, hands on his knees, his light blue eyes fixed fiercely on the spider crawling across the floor. Remus watched no less intently. 

The spider transformed into Sirius. A grinning, upright, decidedly unwobbly Sirius. 

“Well,” Dumbledore said. “It looks like you-“

Sirius transformed into the chipmunk that had previously given him trouble. The chipmunk eyed them for a moment and then transformed into an owl, which then became Sirius. He was steady and sure on his feet.

Remus couldn’t hide his own grin. “So that’s it? You’re okay as long as you’re a predator?”

“That’s it,” Sirius replied. “You can tell Snape I don’t need his precious expertise to rework my Potion. As long as I’m in the form of a predator before I change back to myself, I’m fine. I can’t believe I only thought of Padfoot as a mammal and not as a predator. It’s so basic. God, I’m an idiot!”

Dumbledore’s crooked nose wrinkled. “We also didn’t recognize that characteristic, Sirius. And we were supposed to be the advisory and vetting committee examining all aspects of this entire process.”

“It didn’t occur to Snape either, did it.” Sirius stated with smug satisfaction. Remus rolled his eyes. No matter how much Dumbledore might wish it, Sirius and Snape would never be more than unwilling allies, if that.

“True, Sirius. But, to be fair, Severus did not have all the information he needed to make a complete assessment,” Dumbledore noted. “It’s just as well to be reminded that we aren’t always as smart as we think we are. And that we don’t always see the best way to apply what we know.”

He looked at the two younger men in turn. “It keeps us humble.”

“And we certainly wouldn’t want to get carried away with ourselves, would we?” Remus replied, trying to catch Sirius’ gaze.

Sirius looked anywhere but at Remus. “Alright, alright. I’ll conduct myself with appropriate humility.” His tone indicated nothing of the sort. 

Dumbledore couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice. “Don’t restrain yourself too much. A docile, subdued Sirius is a crime against nature.”

~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~

Guttural, panting grunts rent the air. Remus’ lungs heaved like bellows. His gasping breaths powered his body, fueled the thrusts of his hips. Drove his cock deep and hard. Deep inside Sirius. Remus ploughed into the hungry heat of his lover’s body, forcing the air out of Sirius’ lungs in answering groans.

The lean body bent beneath him, arched and curved to meet him, leaped and bucked under him, wanting impalement. Wanting, begging for everything Remus could give him. Wordless noises poured from his throat, a pure sound of need and desire, wanting Remus so deep inside he’d never leave. Panting for more, more, more. Bolts of pleasure like flame-tipped arrows burned through his body with every stroke of Remus’ cock. He was wild and fierce and Remus rode him hard. Hard. Hard enough to split him wide open and still he pleaded for more. 

Their bodies strained and writhed, pushing beyond thought and words until the blinding torrent of orgasm swept them shuddering through a maelstrom of power and sweat and hot, gushed seed spilling into, onto each other.

They collapsed together utterly spent, hearts pounding, a sticky, sweaty mess of tangled limbs, while moans of pleasure still leaked from their mouths.

The dimly lit room came back into focus. Remus drew in an impossibly deep breath and slowly exhaled. A satisfied smile tilted his lips at the sated expression on his lover’s face.

“Paddy?”

“Mmm?”

“Dumbledore’s right.”

The black brows furrowed, clearly showing that thoughts of elderly wizards were inappropriate to the moment. “About what?”

“That a docile, subdued Sirius is a crime against nature.”

Sirius snorted. “That’s just because you like to subdue me yourself.”

“When you beg so prettily for it,” Remus murmured, his voice rich as dark chocolate, “how can I deny you?”

Sirius’ hand coasted down his lover’s body and gently encircled his cock, pulling a pleased hum from the back of Remus’ throat. Sirius grinned knowingly. “You can’t.”

His hand meandered back up along Remus’ body, caressing with fingertips, smoothing with the palm of his hand. He worshiped every contour of bone and muscle, every texture of skin and hair. 

”You know, Remus, some men glory in the richness of their possessions or the opulence of their surroundings. But none of their treasures can compare to the priceless beauty I have next to me in this bed.”

Remus lay silent, a slave to the tender strokes of his lover’s hand and the sweet whispers from his lips. He had never really quite understood why, but Sirius adored him. It made Remus feel very wealthy, indeed. He stirred and gazed lovingly at the man beside him, drinking in the delicious sight of Sirius with his raven hair and eyes gleaming like opals in the firelight. And it occurred to him that there was no color in his world when he was separated from his lover.

He tilted his head to look fully into Sirius’ face. One hand brushed across a lean cheek. “You’re dark and light, Sirius. Onyx and silver. Shadow and smoke. And when I’m away from you, everything fades to gray. It’s only when I’m with you, with your midnight hair and star-lit eyes, that the world dazzles me with all of its vibrant colors.”

Sirius silently blessed his good luck that Remus was still smitten with him, even though his looks had faded to a pale replica of what he once was. “We’re good together, aren’t we, Re?”

Remus nuzzled into his neck. “We’re very good, Paddy.”


	6. Predator and Prey

The numb, monotonous routine of winter seeped into every facet of life, sapping energy and ambition; dulling everything into a mindless routine. The holidays were a dim memory. Classes came and went. Bored students gazed out of the windows and looked onto a world gone gray, full of cloudy skies and old snow. Color hibernated as if the frigid air had drained all vibrancy from the landscape. 

Occasional reports of attacks by Voldemort’s guerrillas broke into everyone’s consciousness like flames against a midnight sky. The Ministry countered by trumpeting each arrest or investigation, no matter how minor or questionable the evidence. Everyone had the foreboding sense that something was happening out there, hidden beyond the horizon or cloaked by the dark winter nights. It was only a matter of time before the world exploded.

Sirius Black, whose life had not been routine for many a year, discovered that his forays from Hogwarts fell into a certain pattern. He’d pore over the latest intelligence with Dumbledore to come up with likely locations of Death Eater hiding places. Then, under cover of night, Sirius hunted. Once off school grounds he’d Apparate in as many jumps as necessary to within several miles of his destination. Taking animal form, he’d search methodically back and forth until he’d covered the entire area. Even the wariest of wizards would hardly spare him a glance. They’d see an alley cat skulking through a derelict section of Newcastle. Or a fox slipping quietly past tumbledown crofts in the Scottish highlands. Or a gull floating on the water near an abandoned wharf in Yarmouth. 

His Polyanimagus senses acute to the presence of wards and charms, Sirius hunted for the shimmery, tingly feeling that would indicate the location of an invisible lair, a hidden hideout untraceable by human wizards. His animal senses found them. Each time, though, it was clear that whoever had used these places had deserted them. But, the hunter was not discouraged, for he often found a faint trace of a long-remembered scent lingering behind, the scent of a specific rat, and sometimes, the scent of the rat’s human counterpart. 

Perversely, that scent thrilled Sirius almost as much as his lover’s. The shattering release he’d feel when Wormtail fell into his hands would be almost sexual. Soon, one day soon, he’d find the traitor. He’d attack, quickly and with as much viciousness as needed. He’d ensnare Wormtail before the rat knew what hit him. Seize him. Stun him. Fling him to the ground. And once his helpless prisoner was in his hands, bound or unconscious, Sirius would be sure not to lose him. Apparating his prisoner back to Hogwarts was not an option. It was dangerous enough Apparating while carrying a friend without ending up exchanging splinched body parts. Apparating with a hostile Animagus was entirely too risky, especially if the unconscious animal revived during the transport.

~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~

The shadowy winter dusk turned the landscape monochromatic. Outlines of bare-limbed trees merged into the night sky and the barren earth. As the sky darkened, the abandoned cottage faded into the gloom. All was still. Only the sharpest of eyes could have seen the small movement at the edge of the property, where bracken and meadow grass met a ragged hedgerow. 

A fox slowly made his way through the vegetation, pausing now and again, his sharp muzzle lifted to catch scents on the night air. His whiskers twitched as he brushed against the skillfully set ward. Passing through, he saw the glimmer of light shining at the edge of a window. Carefully, he crossed the ground, meandering in an uneven circle around the house. Closer and closer, he approached the outer wall of the dwelling and continued his inspection. The magical protections were sharp and new. His hackles rose involuntarily.

At a corner, he found a tiny hole. Then, he vanished, only to be replaced by a sleek, brown field mouse. The mouse slipped into the hole, and clawed his way up inside the wall, towards the murmur of voices.

They became clearer as the mouse approached. A small split in the baseboard was bright as a beacon. Cautiously, he peeked out and jumped back into the safety of the dark as a gigantic foot came down from above. Something huge strode past. The mouse’s little heart hammered in his chest. He sat at the edge of the hole and listened. 

“-tired of this same food.” A woman’s voice, dark and menacing, complained. “Boiled meat and potatoes! Is that the best you can do, Wormtail?”

“It’s all we have,” answered a voice that caused the mouse to bristle. “I can’t let myself be seen in the town and -“

“I don’t want to hear your excuses!” She said shrilly. And then her voice sank down to a harpy’s croon, a mockery of the loving tone a mother uses to her child. “But, this is sumptuous for squirmy Wormy, isn’t it? So much tastier than the slop your Master gives you. Yes, this is a feast for our Lord’s rat-slave.” 

There was no reply. The mouse peered through the crack just in time to see a black-haired woman fling her plate to the floor. The shredded remains of her meal clung to the broken crockery. 

“Clean that up, you pathetic, little toad!” 

The short, balding man pulled out his wand. The woman’s glittering eyes narrowed and her tone ripped like jagged metal.

“Oh, no! No magic. Get down on your knees and clean it up!”

Without a sound, the man obeyed. He never once raised his eyes to her face, so he missed the scornful curl of her lip. 

“What a sad ending to those glorious days of yesteryear, eh, Wormtail?” She prodded his hip with the toe of her shoe. “When you proudly trotted behind your heroes across the grounds at Hogwarts, aping their struts, your lips pressed firmly against their arses. Never mind that they thought you weak and pathetic. I’m sure your fawning attention fed some nasty, twisted appetites.”

He met her goading with silence.

“And, yet, here you are. A survivor. No desperate heroics for you, like James Potter. I wonder how much he screamed before our Lord ripped the life from his body. And no reckless grasps at glory, like my dear, departed cousin. That arrogant clod!”

Her heavy gaze returned to the little man before her. 

“Of course, there is your other remaining friend. The werewolf. He won’t last, once we’ve regained our power. Creatures like him will be put down. And, then you’ll truly be the last one standing. Isn’t that satisfying?”

“I only seek to help our Lord attain his goals. That will satisfy me.”

Her laughter pealed through the room. “How very self-effacing of you! What a perfect servant you are! Of course you want us to succeed. What other choice do you have? You’re too stupid and cowardly to survive on your own. Certainly that old dotard and his little protégé will never accept you. Can you imagine Harry Potter welcoming back the man who betrayed his parents and his beloved godfather?”

Abruptly she stood, tired of her games. “They were fools, but they had no fear. Not like you.”

She moved to stand by the rough-hewn mantle. The ravages of prison hadn’t destroyed the regal bearing of Bellatrix Lestrange. She still carried herself like a defiant queen, confidant of her own power. One emaciated hand reached out and a clawed finger stroked along the edges of two sealed envelopes that leaned against a candlestick.

“I’ll take one of these with me tomorrow. Try to remember to take the other with you to the hiding place near Berwick. They’re expecting you at daybreak.” 

Her sneering tone revealed her doubts that he could successfully perform the simple task of carrying a note to the right place and arriving at the designated time. She didn’t wait for a reply. “I’m going to bed. Make sure this room is spotless before you retire. I hate living with filth.” 

She swept from the room, her smile mocking the look of pure venom he threw at her.

Once the little man finished his chores, he doused the lights and left. The mouse listened to footsteps climb a staircase and walk overhead. Cautiously, the mouse crept into the room and skittered to the darkest corner. His shape changed, growing taller and lankier. A scrawny cat sat motionless. Silently he waited for the myriad small human noises to abate as the two other occupants of the house fell asleep.

And still the cat sat, with an almost unnatural patience. Finally, as the night crept by, the cat moved. Two quick bounds took him from the floor to a chair to the mantle. Grabbing the envelopes with his sharp teeth, the cat agilely turned and leaped down, and with no more sound than a shadow, he slipped deeper into the house. On velvet paws he climbed the stairs. Like a wisp of smoke he curled around the half-open door of a bedroom, the one redolent with the lingering scent of rat.

Snoring softly, Pettigrew lay twisted in the bedclothes. The cat blurred, and Sirius Black stood over his nemesis. One hand flew to draw his wand; the other shoved the envelopes into his robes. Reaching back he quietly closed the door, praying to whoever might be listening that his transformation into human form had not set off any sort of magical alarms. 

The door snicked shut. 

“Hnh? Wha?” Peter called out with a note of alarm, struggling to wake up.

“Stupefy!” Sirius’ voice rasped. With a soft cry, Peter thumped back on the bed. 

Swiftly Sirius moved towards the window. As his hands reached out, he froze. Rapid footsteps approached. He spun around.

“I don’t want to listen to your wet dreams all night!” Bellatrix snarled as she flung open the door.

“Stupefy!” Sirius yelled. 

A jet of light hit her right below the throat. She crumpled to the floor. Her wand skittered from her hand.

With a slow, menacing stride, he walked over to her. His placed his foot squarely on her wand hand. He leaned harder and felt the spindly fingers under his boot. A gentle shift of his weight would be enough to crush all those brittle bones to powder. He gripped his wand tightly, pointing it directly at her ghostly white face. A searing flood of desire boiled through his veins. It would be so easy. So easy to kill her as she lay. And, best of all, Peter would be blamed for it. It was perfect, as seamless as any plan he’d ever hatched. What better way to pay them both back for the anguish and suffering they had caused? They both deserved to die. 

He stepped back suddenly, away from the poison that seemed to seep from her pores to infect the air around him. Deep breaths drove the red haze away from his vision. He was not like them. He was not a cold-blooded murderer. Panting slightly, he regarded her shadowed features for a moment longer, and, with a flick of his wand, he bound her tightly with lengths of rope. 

Sirius knew he shouldn’t linger. He had no idea what sort of defenses had been placed on this dwelling. The use of attacking spells might have triggered a response from people he did not wish to meet. 

Turning back to Peter, he focused his power, and chanted the spell to force him into his Animagus form. Scooping up the unconscious rodent, Sirius raised the window and placed him on the sill. He slipped Peter’s wand into his pocket.

The stairs creaked. Footsteps. Footsteps sprinted up the stairs. Lights from wand tips shone in the hallway.

“Bella?” Someone called.

An owl swept out of the window, neatly plucked up limp rat’s body, and disappeared into the night sky. 

~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ ****

Ben Halloran loved birds. One of his great joys in life was to tramp across the fields in the early morning, just to see what avians were out and about. There was always something to see or hear, even in winter. This morning he paused under the branches of a large tree and scanned the horizon with his binoculars. Nothing of note other than some sparrows. He lowered his glasses and started walking when a sudden streak of gray and buff caught his eye. 

Ben grabbed his binoculars and refocused as he sought to intercept the bird’s trajectory across the sky. What came into focus was a peregrine falcon carrying a rat and traveling very quickly. Ben pulled the glasses away from his face and rubbed his eyes. Looking again, it was clear that the bird was flying as if it had no intention of stopping to eat its prey any time soon. That didn’t make sense. Food was scarce in the winter and this bird would have no nest of young to care for, so why would it be lugging rats around the countryside? This was not normal mid-winter behavior for a raptor. It was almost, Ben puzzled, as if the bird was intent on making a delivery of the rat. But, where? To whom?

Ben couldn’t come up with a plausible explanation because Ben didn’t believe in magic.

~~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~**

The falcon’s muscles burned. He’d been carrying his burden high above the land for hours. The flight alone would have tired him, due to its length and the speed at which he flew. But, the weight of the rat clasped in his talons, as skinny as it was, got heavier with each stroke of his wings.

The rat had awoken in the owl’s grasp when it was still dark. He’d struggled weakly. But, perhaps realizing how high off the ground he was, he hadn’t dared to transform. At dawn, with the beat of a wing, the owl changed into a falcon. The rat twitched with surprise, knowing now that his captor was magical. 

He still couldn’t transform. Not from this height. Not unless he wanted to kill himself. And the human part of the falcon’s brain knew that Wormtail would never opt for suicide, not while there was a chance he could escape the clutches of whoever had caught him. 

The falcon grew weary. For hours he’d flown straight and true into the north. The sun had risen and swept across the sky. And still he flew. The ground below gradually changed from well-ordered towns to a craggier, more desolate landscape. But the bird refused to land, not even high on a cliff edge, for fear of losing his prey. He had waited too long, suffered too much, to stop now. The knowledge that every beat of his wings brought him closer to his goal sustained him. 

~~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~

Harry sank into his usual seat at the Gryffindor table, facing the Slytherins. Tonight he found it hard to join in the conversation. He didn’t really feel like talking. Sirius had been away for five days now and Harry was getting increasingly anxious. 

Hogwarts’ bountiful dinner appeared, and with it came the piercing cry of a hawk echoing through the room. The unusual arrival of a messenger bird at this hour surprised many of the students into momentary silence. Harry glanced up to see a falcon gliding towards the head table, grasping a struggling animal in its talons. Dumbledore rose to his feet, a small smile nestled in his beard.

“Ron, isn’t that Scabbers?” Hermione gasped.

“It is!” Ron breathed.

“Oh, my God!” Harry’s fork clattered to the table as he recognized the rodent.

They exchanged glances, knowing full well what the implications of Pettigrew’s capture meant.

The falcon neatly dropped his prisoner into the Headmaster’s outstretched hands. Then he banked sharply, his wings powering him up and out of the Hall. Harry paid no attention to the bird. Instead, with fascinated horror, he watched as Headmaster Dumbledore said something to Professors McGonagall and Snape. McGonagall looked totally nonplussed. Snape merely nodded, although Harry thought that it cost the Potions Master some effort to maintain his impassive façade. 

Light shot from Dumbledore’s wand, hitting the rat. Just as Harry had witnessed in the Shrieking Shack over two years ago, the rodent’s body changed, rapidly taking the form of a short, balding man dressed incongruously in flannel pajamas. Gasps echoed through the room at the sight, followed by the loud babbling of a horde of surprised voices.

“Silence!” Commanded the Headmaster. 

Once the noise settled into a low rumble Dumbledore smiled out at the students. With a slight wave of his hand he indicated the man, who twitched nervously under the attention of so many people. 

“Students, allow me to introduce an alumnus of this school. I present to you a master of disguise and duplicity. He was given a hero’s burial, but, as you can see, he is very much alive. Please welcome Peter Pettigrew.”

The Hall erupted.

Harry sat in a daze. He barely noticed the falcon return to drop several envelopes at Dumbledore’s feet. He didn’t realize that he’d risen from the table and walked back to Gryffindor Tower. His ears buzzed. His eyes were blind to his surroundings. The only thing that mattered was that Wormtail had been captured, delivered by avian messenger to Dumbledore and forced to transform back into Peter Pettigrew right there in the Great Hall, in front of hundreds of eyes. 

Harry was jolted from his thoughts when he walked smack into Ron. The honest Weasley face creased in a sad frown. Hermione stood next to him, looking mournfully at Harry.

“What?” he asked, perplexed.

“We’re sorry, mate,” Ron said. “I mean, it’s brilliant that Wormtail’s been caught, but we’re sorry Sirius isn’t here to benefit from it.”

Harry nearly swallowed his tongue to keep from blurting out his secret knowledge. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment while he got his thoughts under control. They finally had living proof of Sirius’ innocence. Harry pictured his godfather tossing his head back laughing, all shadows of prison gone from his face, once he learned of Wormtail’s capture. 

Harry struggled to keep his own excitement hidden. “Yeah, well, now at least the whole world will know he didn’t kill Pettigrew. And, if they get that rat to tell the whole story, he can clear Sirius of murdering those Muggles, too.”

“I wonder how the Ministry is going to handle this,” Hermione said thoughtfully. She heaved an exasperated sigh at the boys’ questioning looks. “Well, they don’t know Sirius died in the Department of Mysteries last year. Are they going to make some sort of pronouncement to clear his name and then wonder why he doesn’t come out of hiding?”

“I’ve always wondered why Malfoy or one of those others that got thrown into Azkaban never said anything about Sirius getting killed,” Ron replied.

Harry sneered. “Why would they? They knew we had no proof that he was even there that night. They know the whole world still thinks he’s guilty. Sirius is still a weapon for them.”

Harry didn’t have to feign bitterness at the thought. More than anything he wished Sirius would return from his mission. 

Sirius was at that moment waging a fruitless battle against a house-elf. After delivering his captive to Dumbledore he’d flown to his sitting room. The window was open, which meant Remus wasn’t there, but had made sure to give his lover a way to get back inside. Sirius had scrawled a note regarding the envelopes he’d stolen from Bellatrix, along with information on the existence of the previously unknown hide-out near Berwick. He’d flown back out into the cold night, bringing the note and the envelopes to Dumbledore in the Great Hall. The room had been in bedlam, as the long-dead Peter Pettigrew stood before the professors’ table, with the wands of McGonagall and Dumbledore trained on him. The falcon hadn’t lingered. 

Once he’d returned to the secret suite of rooms, Sirius had slammed window closed and stoked up the fire to combat the room’s chilly air. He’d then dragged himself into the bedroom and collapsed into a chair.

Now he was losing an argument to Dobby. Granted, he was physically drained, but usually he had at least a fighting chance to avoid being browbeaten by someone one-third his height.

Dobby waved an admonishing finger. “Master Black has not been eating! Dobby sees him thinner than he was! Professor Lupin will be sad to see this. Dobby’s job is taking care of Master Black and Professor Lupin.”

“You take wonderful care of us, Dobby. It’s just that I had some urgent business and I couldn’t always stop for meals.”

The elf was not appeased. “Yes, Master Black goes off and does what he wants and now still says no food to Dobby.”

“I’m sorry. But right now I’m too tired to lift a fork or-“

“Not even a bowl of soup, he doesn’t want.” The large, green eyes stared accusingly, making Sirius squirm uncomfortably in his chair. At one point he’d considered letting sleep claim him where he sat rather than attempt to clean himself up before crawling to bed. Now, though, it looked like the only way to escape the reproachful elf was to clamber into the bathtub, even if he ran the risk of falling asleep and drowning. 

”Dobby, what I really want is a nice, hot soak in the tub and then at least twelve hours of sleep.” He hoisted himself up, only to topple back into the chair when Dobby’s index finger poked him sharply in the stomach. The elf ignored his grunt of surprise and marched off towards the bathroom, still complaining.

“I earns wages for my job. Headmaster Dumbledore pays Dobby for his service to Professor Lupin and Master Black. Dobby is not earning his wages if Master Black won’t let him do his job.”

Sirius sighed, sensing defeat. The sound of water filling the tub drowned out Dobby’s mutterings.

A few moments later, the elf reappeared. Sirius lurched to his feet and edged towards the bathroom. Dobby stopped, his head tilted back almost to his shoulders so he could look the wizard in the face.

“And what will I tell Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Lupin and Harry Potter when they sees Master Black thin as a twig?” His ears flopped down and his eyes were luminous with concern. “Harry Potter is very fond of his godfather and shouldn’t be worrying about him!”

Sirius wondered how many other people Dobby intended to mention to shame him into eating. He surrendered. “Alright. If you could please bring me a light meal I’ll-“

With a crack, Dobby vanished.

It was amazing how little effort was required to shed one’s clothes, Sirius reflected as he slid otter-like into the tub. The water was just the right temperature and the scent of the bath foam Dobby had added was both refreshing and soothing. The only thing missing to complete his comfort was Remus’ body next to him. But he certainly couldn’t ask Dobby to supply him with a naked werewolf. Sirius sank into a cocoon of warmth, letting his mind wander and his body slowly relax. 

Until abruptly the vision of a scrawny rat arose. A jolt of energy coursed along his nerves. What was Dumbledore doing with Wormtail? 

As if conjured by his thoughts, Albus’ voice suddenly came from the outer room. “Sirius?”

“I’ll be right there,” Sirius called back. He scrambled out of the tub, seized a towel and barely dried himself off before wrapping a bathrobe around him. He hurried to meet Albus.

“I’m sorry,” the old wizard said upon seeing the younger man. “I didn’t mean to interrupt-”

“It’s okay. Just give me a minute to get dressed-“

“No, no! Relax. I simply wanted to tell you what’s going on.”

“But, Wormtail-“

“Is locked up in one of my rooms and he cannot escape, either as man or rat. Come and eat.” He gestured at the table, which was laid out with a variety of meats and cheeses and breads and fruit. By Dobby’s standards, this was a light meal. To Sirius’ eye, there was enough to stuff an entire Quidditch team.

Sirius tossed a few bits of food on a plate and looked at Dumbledore expectantly. With a flick of his fingers, the Headmaster sent considerably more food from the serving dishes to pile up on Sirius’ plate. “You worry Dobby when you don’t eat properly.”

“I worry everyone. It’s part of my charm.” Sirius wondered when Dumbledore would get to the point.

Dumbledore smiled warmly at him. “I’ve sent on the news regarding the Berwick hide-out. The code used in those letters was rather rudimentary, so I’ve also been able to glean some interesting information, which will lead the Aurors to round up a number of surprising people for questioning.”

Sirius nodded, happy to hear that the Ministry was acting upon the information and not simply stewing about it.

“I’ve also requested several people to be present at Peter’s questioning tomorrow morning.”

“You’re not handing him over to the Ministry?”

“Not immediately. I wish to ask him about the events surrounding the Secret Keeper switch, the deaths of James and Lily and your imprisonment. But, I want to make sure no one tries to bury that information and also that Peter comes to no harm through any of Voldemort’s agents before he tells us what he knows. I’ve invited a few Ministry people I can trust, including Amelia Bones, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. And my closest allies from the Wizengamot, as well as two reliable members of the press. Plus, since I revealed Peter in front of the entire school, the news will spread to our students’ families, too. There will be no way this information can be kept quiet.” 

Sirius felt numb. For so many years he’d yearned for his name to be cleared. But that dream had hovered on the far edge of the horizon, a mirage always out of reach. Now it was so close that he could smell the water in the desert. But he couldn’t let himself believe it. 

With a worried frown he said, “So, tell me what can go wrong. Will these people believe the real story, assuming he tells the truth?”

“Peter is in a very bad position. The letters you brought back show his current allegiance to Voldemort. I have no doubt that Amelia will authorize the use of Veritaserum to find out what else he can tell us about the Death Eaters’ plans. And, although what happened to you and the Potters is too far back in time for a truth potion to be useful, Peter’s recent crimes reveal the man he is. He has chosen, time and again, to support and obey Voldemort.”

Sirius remembered his chubby, sandy-haired schoolmate and wondered, for the millionth time, why he had turned to the Death Eaters. His musings were interrupted.

“Amelia is a fair-minded witch and she will be appalled at the injustice you’ve suffered. She’ll no doubt wish to hold a formal hearing to get everything on the official record."

“I’d have to testify at that, wouldn’t I?” It was a discomforting thought.

“Yes, but by that time, it will be common knowledge that you are innocent. I suspect the Ministry will be more concerned with repairing their own reputation, and will undoubtedly twist into all sorts of contortions to compensate you for the wrongs they inflicted upon you.”

The old wizard rose to his feet. “Tonight, though, I think it’s time to tell our allies in the Order about your return, if you will trust me to handle that.” 

Sirius felt vaguely uneasy. “I’d appreciate it if you kept things somewhat ambiguous. I’m not comfortable with giving everyone the entire story.”

Dumbledore nodded. “I think it best that we simply give the bare essentials to our friends; that the veil hides a truly mysterious portal. You were pushed alive through the veil and a force from beyond eventually pushed you back out again.” Dumbledore grinned mischievously. “But don’t be surprised if Minerva thinks you’re back merely because you irritated someone in authority on the other side.”

“Me? Irritate authority? I can’t imagine where she gets these ideas.”

Dumbledore laughed and moved towards the door. “Get some rest, Sirius.”

“Good night, Albus. And, would you let Harry know I’m back?”

“I will. Good night.” The door closed quietly behind him.

Sirius’ gaze dropped. To his surprise, he realized he had consumed most of the food on his plate, which would hopefully earn his way back into Dobby’s good graces. 

Contemplatively, he rose and prepared for bed. What was a fair price for almost 16 lost years? What formula of galleons, sickles and knuts could repay him for what he’d lost? For what Remus and Harry had lost?

Maybe money wasn’t the answer, he mused as he slid between the sheets. Maybe a demand for monetary compensation could be used as a feint. Get them to agree to some painfully high amount and then offer an exchange. He’d be willing to forgo any sort of payment in return for the Ministry agreeing to keep out of his and Remus’ private lives. He’d have to talk to a lawyer before proposing or agreeing to anything. But, this might just be a bargaining chip to change their lives in ways he’d only begun to consider. He fell asleep thinking of werewolves and bloodlines and children.


	7. Free

Sirius woke with a yawn. The muscles in his arms and upper back screeched in protest as he rolled over. He thumped into something solid sitting on the other side of the bed, which said, “Good morning.” 

“Remus!” Sirius flailed upright through the tangled bedclothes to embrace his lover, ignoring his aching body and nearly upsetting Remus’ tea. “When did you get here?”

Remus wrapped his free arm around Sirius to pull him even closer and kissed him firmly on the mouth. “Last night. Dumbledore contacted me at Headquarters and I portkeyed here with Mad-Eye. Albus called Minerva and Severus to join us and then he gave them a rather minimal explanation of your return back through the Veil.”

He tousled Sirius’ hair affectionately. “Mad-Eye and Minerva were overjoyed. They wanted to burst in to see you, but Albus told them that you were exhausted and in a very deep sleep. Which was quite true. When I got into bed, you were sprawled across the mattress and wouldn’t budge an inch. I finally had to shove you over to give myself some room, and all I got in response was an irritated grunt.”

Sirius’ eyes narrowed at him. “You neglected to mention how Snape leapt about the room in a joyous and effervescent frenzy when given the news.”

“Well, no, but there was quite an impressive display of nostril flaring. I’m not sure if the mere thought of you brought that on, or if he disapproved of the others’ enthusiasm. Perhaps he realized that Albus wasn’t telling the entire story.” 

His expression became thoughtful. “You know, his ability to keep a completely straight face in spite of extreme provocation must have often preserved his life when he was a spy.”

“How very fortunate for us all. Let’s hope that the sight of me won’t make him run screaming back to his dungeons to poison himself.”

Remus’ lips twitched at the acerbic tone. “I wish you’d both try to remember that you’re on the same side. You’ll have to put off sniping at each other for the time being. Today is all about getting information from our prisoner.”

“How will Albus explain Wormtail’s capture to all of the people he’s invited today?”

“It’s common knowledge that Dumbledore has odd spies and peculiar allies in all sorts of unexpected places,” Remus shrugged. “I imagine he’ll say something Dumbledorian, we’ll all nod wisely even though we haven’t a clue what he’s talking about, and that will be the end of it. Snape will undoubtedly figure it out. He knows a Polyanimagus potion was concocted and he knows it wasn’t for Minerva. I’m sure he’ll suspect that you’re the hawk who delivered Wormtail.”

“Can I Obliviate him?”

“NO! He won’t say a word about this to anyone, and certainly not to any Death Eaters. Although I’m sure he’ll drop hints to us to show he’s fully aware of what you’ve done and that we shouldn’t dare to think that we’ve outsmarted him. Besides, even if the Death Eaters get wind of this new talent of yours, do you really think they’ll kill any animal that crosses their paths?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t they blast every dog, cat or bird they see into bloody bits? They show no compunction at murder.”

“Well, then, since you trust Snape so little, you’ll just have to try to keep him guessing, won’t you?”

Sirius grinned somewhat evilly.

With an exasperated groan, Remus rose from the bed and walked towards the door. “I’ve got to go join the group that will question Peter. You should get dressed. Albus will call you in at some point.”

“Remus.”

Hearing a marked change of tone, Remus paused. Several expressions flitted across Sirius’ face too quickly for him to read.

“Yes, Sirius?”

“Last night I had a dream. A boy…You were…Never mind. I’ll tell you some other time. I’ve got to get dressed.”

Remus nodded and left, somewhat reluctantly. The dream was obviously far removed from Snape. No doubt Sirius would ambush him with it later.

Sirius slowly donned his clothes and strode out of the bedroom to find another bountiful display of food set out for him. He didn’t feel very much like eating but neither did he want to face the wrath of Dobby two days in a row. 

The clock ticked as Sirius picked at his eggs and crumbled his bacon and shredded his toast. How could he eat, when the key to his freedom was being grilled several rooms away? He started pacing, teeth worrying at his lower lip. What was going on? What was Wormtail saying?

He jumped when the door opened. Remus stood framed in the doorway. Sirius went very still. 

“Well? What has he said?”

Remus smiled grimly. “He hasn’t changed. He started pleading and bargaining as soon as his connection with Bellatrix came up. He offered to tell them everything he knows about Voldemort’s plans in return for a more lenient sentence.”

“They don’t have to bargain with him. They can use Veritaserum to get what they want.”

“Which Dumbledore gently reminded him. The mere fact that Peter is alive and obviously allied with Voldemort, combined with what Harry’s evidence about the murder of Cedric Diggory, puts him into a tight spot. What Albus demanded was the whole story about the Potters, the Secret-Keeper switch, and Wormtail’s betrayal. And he got it. Come on.”

Sirius heard Peter’s voice quavering in supplication as they stopped outside Dumbledore’s office. A booming female tone interrupted. “I do not pass judgment, Mr. Pettigrew. Save your pleas for your trial, although it won’t do you much good now that you’ve admitted committing the crimes that sent Sirius Black to Azkaban.”

“I didn’t mean to do it.” The plaintive tone struck a note so utterly false that it made Sirius wonder if any thinking human could fall for it. “But, Sirius was crazed. A madman. He was always unpredictable when he was in a fury. I just wanted to get away from him. I never thought that everyone would think he was the traitor.” 

Sirius’ lip curled in a silent snarl. He reached for the doorknob, but paused when he heard Peter’s insincere words continue. “You have my deepest sympathies, Harry, on your loss.”

“My parents died years ago because of your treachery,” Harry snapped. “It’s a little late for sympathy.”

“Oh, no! I meant Sirius. How hard it must be to have lost him, too!” 

There was a surprised murmur of voices that diminished when Peter continued. “I heard about what happened at the Department of Mysteries.”

The murmurs got louder as other voices broke in. “What? Black was there, too?” 

“Albus, you’ve never mentioned this!”

”Black was in the Death Room?”

“Quiet, please!” The booming woman said sharply. “Mr. Pettigrew, do you have proof Mr. Black took part in that fight last June?”

“Bellatrix told me that Sirius came charging in, ready to play the hero again.” Peter sounded almost jaunty, now that he had imparted this startling news. “It’s typical, really. He was congenitally incapable of staying on the sidelines. He always had to be in the center of things. Always wanting attention. Always showing off. I guess his dueling skills were too rusty for him to take on someone like Bellatrix. Or maybe he underestimated her. He’s made that mistake before.”

Peter’s tone turned dolorous with over-played sympathy. “I am truly sorry, Harry.”

Sirius had heard enough. He flung open the door.

“What are you on about?” he growled at Peter as he stalked into the room. Harry’s scowl brightened into a wide grin at the sight of his godfather.

Several people gasped. Peter yelped in shock, his watery eyes bulging in his face. “You! You can’t! Bellatrix…She killed you! You’re dead!”

Sirius’ lupine smile stopped the little man’s babbling. “You’ve known since your first year at Hogwarts that Bellatrix stretches the truth when it suits her. Or perhaps the story she told you was just a wishful fantasy bubbling around inside her warped, little brain. All those years in Azkaban may have altered her perception of reality. The Dementors are not the kindest of jailers, you know.”

Peter could only shake his head, as if the motion would chase away the all-too-real vision of the dead man confronting him.

“Headmaster Dumbledore!” A broad, gray-haired witch wearing a monocle strode between the two men. “Have you been sheltering Mr. Black, even though he is wanted by the Ministry?”

The old wizard’s expression was as serene as the soothing sky blue of his robes. “Yes, of course. Since the sentence of the Dementor’s Kiss still hung over his head, I considered it prudent to give him a safe haven until such time as evidence of his innocence could be produced.”

The witch’s glance bounced from Dumbledore to Sirius to Remus to Harry and back. “I imagine a number of people knew of Mr. Black’s whereabouts.”

Sirius said nothing and tried to ignore the stares and mutterings of the other people in the room. The witch strode to the Headmaster’s desk and rummaged through a file of papers. “Mr. Black, as Headmaster Dumbledore has no doubt informed you, I am Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.” 

She fished out a sheet of parchment. “I pulled some of the relevant documents from your file prior to coming here. I saw that at the time of your arrest your wand was never tested for Priori Incantatem. Ash, nine inches, dragon heartstring core, correct?”

“No.” Sirius glanced at Remus and saw his own surprise reflected on Remus’ face.

“No?” Madame Bones said sharply.

Sirius shook his head. “Ebony, eleven inches, dragon heartstring. Worm- uh, Pettigrew once had a wand made of ash. Check Ollivander’s records, if you wish.”

“In all these years no one discovered we’ve had the wrong wand?” Alastor Moody barked from where he sat in the corner. “I was told at the time of Black’s imprisonment that his wand **had** been tested.” 

His fake eye whirled dizzyingly in its socket, flashing across the assembled group until finally coming to rest on Bones. “The original evidence was obviously mishandled. The whole case against Black sounds like a complete cock-up from the start. Unless, maybe, Pettigrew wasn’t the only person trying to hide his tracks that day.”

Madame Bones aimed her monocle and the full force of her authoritative demeanor on the old Auror. “Let’s not go hatching conspiracy theories, Alastor. I agree that the Ministry’s case against Mr. Black is completely undermined by what we’ve seen and heard today. Whether or not anyone other than Mr. Pettigrew sought to frame him remains to be seen. However, I’m convinced that there was a gross miscarriage of justice.”

She turned to Sirius. “I am lifting the sentence of the Dementor’s Kiss and removing the offer of bounty for your capture immediately. I’m also rescinding all orders that would place you in custody. I’ll schedule a hearing as soon as possible to officially exonerate you of the crimes of which you were convicted. Headmaster Dumbledore, will you stand surety that Mr. Black will remain here until the hearing and that he will appear at the appropriate date and time?”

“With pleasure.”

“Mr. Black, is that acceptable to you?”

For once in his life Sirius was speechless. Could his innocence be proclaimed by the snap of this witch’s fingers? His conviction and sentencing had taken less than thirty seconds. Could the expunging of his record be equally speedy? Maybe there was no such thing as deliberative justice.

He realized with a start that Madame Bones was patiently awaiting his answer.

“Yes. Thank you.”

Her features softened into something resembling a smile, which promptly vanished when she turned to regard Peter Pettigrew. 

“My Aurors will take you to the Ministry where you’ll remain until Mr. Black’s hearing. After that, you’ll be afforded the luxury of a trial, although I’m sorely tempted to give you the same treatment that your one-time friend suffered.”

“Maybe I could round up a Dementor or two to keep you company in Azkaban,” Moody growled.

The rest of the people in the room buzzed about what they had just witnessed. But, just as the Aurors took custody of Pettigrew, Remus strode forward.

“Wait!” 

Remus thought this might be his last chance to try to find a reason that could explain the monstrous deeds his old friend had committed. Sirius, too, drifted closer until it was just the three of them in a small triangle in the center of the room.

“Peter, I’ve been trying to figure this out for a long time and I can’t come up with a good answer. What drove you to Voldemort? What did he offer that was worth murdering James and Lily? That paid for orphaning Harry and nearly destroying Sirius?”

Sirius added, “It had to be more than fear for your own life. It had to be. We all lived with that fear for years. It had to be something else.”

Pettigrew’s small stature seemed to have shrunk further over the last few minutes. As he looked up at his old friends they both saw the vestiges of the boy they had once known, before their roads had split so irrevocably. For a few minutes, it was as if they were alone in the room.

“They said they wouldn’t kill me,” he muttered. “The Death Eaters. They promised to spare me, if I gave them information. It was little stuff in the beginning. Names, passing intercepted messages. By the time I realized how deep I had gotten, it was too late. I couldn’t back out. I saw what they did to their own. I saw what they did to Regulus before they killed him.”

Sirius felt a chill slither down his back at the memory of those dark, fearsome days. He heard his brother’s voice in his head, begging for help in getting away, getting out of the country. He remembered waiting for hours for Regulus to show up to collect the money and wand Sirius had scrounged for him. Waiting fruitlessly because by then, Regulus was already dead.

Remus pressed him further. “But you took that first step. You gave them that first small bit of information when they contacted you. What sort of threats did they use, that you couldn’t come to us, to the Order, for help?”

“They didn’t come to me. I sought them out.” The small man stood straighter as he admitted the depths of his treachery. His watery eyes darted back and forth between the disbelieving faces of the other two men. 

Had he ever really known them? Pettigrew shrugged uncertainly. “They were picking us off one by one. They were winning. I was afraid to die.”

No one else in the room made a sound.

“And that made it easier to sacrifice your friends without a fight? And your friends’ son? And complete strangers on the street?” Sirius asked quietly, a mixture of anger, sadness and bewilderment on his face. He realized with a heavy sense of finality that he would never understand Peter’s actions. 

Peter looked back at him with equal incomprehension. “I had no other choice.”

“There’s always another choice.” Sirius turned away, renouncing for all time whatever had once existed between them.

The room sprang back to life. Peter was led away. 

~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~**

The cold, clear air practically rang with a crystal purity only to be found in a Scottish winter. It swallowed the gray vapor of his breath as Sirius leaned against a tree, staring across the lake. He thought about the giant squid. For some reason, he always imagined that in winter it wore a humongous scarf wrapped around its tubular body. The scarf was always red and gold.

Footsteps squeaking through the snow made him flinch involuntarily. He turned and watched Harry approach. 

“Couldn’t you have taken a walk through the Castle, where it’s warm?” Harry complained good-naturedly.

“I’ve always loved winter up here. The snow lasts so much longer and stays so much whiter than it does in London. I wanted to experience it again as a man, rather than an animal. I wanted to stop hiding, to walk around in the open air, where anyone looking out their window can see me.”

Harry’s eyes darted to the tree under which Sirius had partially concealed himself. He said nothing.

Sirius grinned sheepishly. “Okay, so I feel a little exposed at the idea of people looking out and seeing me. I’ve only had a few hours to get used to the idea that I don’t have to disguise myself any more.”

“It’s easier to talk to you when you’re you,” Harry agreed. “Although, when you’re Padfoot I can make rude comments and you can’t talk back.”

“No, but I can bite.” That particular gleam in his eyes was something Harry had learned not to trust. “Or tackle you to the ground!” 

The black dog bowled Harry over. Harry’s indignant squawk was drowned out by his godfather’s barking laughter. Human again, he rolled to his feet, scooping up a huge handful of snow. Harry’s Quidditch reflexes kicked in and he grabbed his own lumps of snow. For the next twenty minutes snowballs whizzed furiously through the air like frozen comets. Direct hits were greeted with howls of outrage and dire threats of retribution. 

Finally, breathless, they called a truce. Harry shook snow out of his hair, snickering as Sirius tried vainly to stop a cold rivulet of water from inching its way down his back, courtesy of a well-placed missile that had landed squarely above his collar. They strolled back towards the great oaken doors of Hogwarts.

“Remember that night in the Shrieking Shack?” Sirius asked unexpectedly. “When I offered you a place to stay if you wanted to leave the Dursleys?”

Harry nodded. He’d never forget the events of that night.

“Well, that offer still stands.” Sirius hurried on before Harry could reply. “I know you still need the blood protection at the Dursleys. And, even though we both hate it, you’ll be safer at Grimmauld Place than anywhere else during the rest of the time you’re away from Hogwarts. And, that by the time this is all over, you’ll be old enough to be on your own.”

“But,” he hesitated, seeking the right words. “Remus and I intend to find a place to live that isn’t drenched with dark memories; the home we always thought we would share.”

A pained look tightened Sirius’ face and Harry regretted how quickly his godfather’s laughter had disappeared. He was about to answer when Sirius spoke again.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t provide for you years ago, Harry. I’ll always regret that. You’re almost an adult now, so maybe it’s too late. But, I just want you to know that you have a place with us, whether you want to stay for a day or a month or for the rest of your life. You have place with us.”

The unexpected lump in Harry’s throat made it hard for him to speak. “Do you think we’ll live to see it?”

Sirius shrugged. “It’s worth fighting for.”

They passed into the entrance hall. 

“Sirius?”

“Hmm?’

“About this place you and Remus are going to get.” 

Sirius looked at him expectantly.

“Would you make sure it’s not in a neat, cookie-cutter Dursley-approved neighborhood?”

Something changed in his godfather’s eyes, Harry noted. Something good. When Sirius smiled, it always started with the spark in his eyes. Harry felt a fierce affection swell up inside him. Sirius knew exactly what he was talking about without him having to spell it out.

“And that there’s room in the back to fly brooms? And extra bedrooms for guests? And maybe a ghoul in the attic, so Ron will feel at home if he stays over?”

“Anything you want, Harry.” The laughter was back. “We’ll also need a garage.”

“Do you know how to drive? The Muggle way?”

“Oh, yeah. I learned as soon as I could, mostly because the mere thought of it drove my parents mad.”

Harry frowned. “If you were still living with your parents when you learned, wouldn’t you have been too young-“

“Never you mind.” Sirius waved Harry’s words away. “You’re almost old enough now so let’s not worry about it.”

“Will you teach me?”

“Sure. Oh, Harry, you must learn about the internal combustion engine. It’s a marvel by itself, but when combined with power-generating levitation charms, it’s truly a thing of beauty. I once had a flying motorcycle...”

A dreamy expression settled on his face, making him look years younger. ”It was brilliant.”

Either of them could die at anytime, Harry knew. He didn’t like to think about the odds that they would survive the conflict with Voldemort. And not just the two of them, but Remus and Ron and Hermione and Ginny and all the other people he cared about. Sirius’ reminiscence of his motorcycle seemed somehow trivial and important at the same time. Silly and useless, yet symbolic of the kind of normal activity that neither of them had had the time to indulge. It was something else worth fighting for.

“Tell me about it,” Harry prompted as they headed up to join Remus for a private dinner. Sirius happily complied.

~~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~** ~ **~**

The shocking revelations behind the treachery of Peter Pettigrew and the wrongful imprisonment of Sirius Black were all that anyone could talk about. The Daily Prophet lost interest in publishing anything that was not somehow connected to the scandal, even though they were unable to secure an interview with the soon-to-be-exonerated convict. They did manage to obtain several photographs of Sirius. The pictures of a thin, haunted face replaced the grotesque Azkaban photo of the escaped prisoner that had become so familiar to all. Stories about other prisoners began to emerge; stories that revealed a pattern of abuse of power and disregard for the law. Calls mounted for the resignation of Cornelius Fudge.

One week later, it was over.

After seven days of anxious waiting, Madame Amelia Bones convened her hearing. 

And on the seventh day, flanked by silent Aurors, and followed by Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore, Alastor Moody, Remus Lupin and an esoteric collection of witnesses and supporters, Sirius Black entered the Ministry of Magic to tell his story, a story that was fifteen years overdue. He hid his nerves and his fear that somehow he would not be believed and would wind up back in Azkaban. He stood tall and proud, with the innate grace and carriage that revealed his Black lineage. 

At the end of the questioning of Sirius, Peter and others who bore witness to the events surrounding these two men, Madame Bones consulted with the other members of her tribunal and pronounced her judgment. 

“I hereby exonerate Sirius Black of all crimes of which he was convicted. You are free…”

She said a good deal more, but he couldn’t hear it over the exultant clamor of those sixteen words echoing in his head. They shattered the hidden chains that burdened his heart and his spirit, turning them into bolts of joy. His skin tingled as if awakening to the warmth of spring after a winter of desolation. He breathed in air of such heady sweetness he felt almost drunk. Turning, he saw his own jubilance reflected back at him in the radiant love glowing on the faces of the two people who meant the world to him. 

Free. He was free.


	8. Epilogue

A raucous celebration reverberated through the gloomy rooms of 12 Grimmauld Place, making that dour dwelling seem almost hospitable. The many members of the Order of the Phoenix who showed up had a double motivation. Their astonishment of Sirius’ return to the living was magnified by their joy in his exoneration. Curiosity about the mysterious power of the Veil was quickly squelched, as Dumbledore and Mad-Eye insisted this was a matter to be discussed with only the most senior people in the Department of Mysteries. The few unquenchably inquisitive in the crowd got no further by trying to pry information from Sirius directly, since he amused himself by giving outlandish or contradictory answers.

Not even Mrs. Black’s portrait put a damper on the festivities. She was unable to sum up more than a stream of stunned mutterings, although she let out one good shriek when her son told her, eyes dancing with glee, that if she didn’t behave, he’d construct a cabinet around her and place a permanent Silencing Charm on it. 

Eventually the revelers left or found their way upstairs to bed. Only Remus and Sirius remained awake, lounging on a sofa in front of the drawing room fire. Maybe it was the feeling of utter release that had buoyed him since their date at the Ministry, but, for once, Remus didn’t feel edgy in the foreboding, old house. Still, he didn’t relish the thought of it being their permanent home.

Sirius’ thoughts followed a similar path. “Once all this is over, Moony, we’ll decide where we want to live and I’ll sell this mausoleum.”

Remus glanced around doubtfully. “Maybe you could offer it to Narcissa.”

“Not a bad idea. She might feel compelled to keep it in the family, and I’d enjoy making her pry open the Malfoy vault in order to get her hands on it.”

“That means that some day it will go to Draco.”

“He’s welcome to it. Think of how happy all the ancestors will be to have a worthy pureblood son living here.” His head suddenly cocked to one side in a very Padfoot-like gesture. The bright, gray eyes fixed Remus with an avid stare. 

“Speaking of sons,” Sirius began. Remus got the distinct impression that he had inadvertently sprung a trap he didn’t know existed.

“Do you remember about a week ago that I mentioned a dream? I had it the night I brought Wormtail back to Hogwarts.”

“I remember. You said something about me and a boy.”

“Yes. You were sitting at a table helping him learn how to write.”

Remus smiled. “You were sometimes uncannily adept at Divination, especially when your imagination had spiraled out of control. But, somehow, I doubt I’ll get a teaching position anytime soon.”

Sirius smiled back at him, his expression so serenely beautiful that Remus stopped breathing. This wasn’t the irresistible grin of the cheeky prankster who had so often vanquished Remus’ caution, tempting him into trouble and complications and endless detentions. No, this smile reflected the clear-eyed, passion of a man who had suffered grievously on his life’s journey, but who had once again found joy.

“You were teaching your son.” 

Remus reminded himself to inhale, all the while fighting against the unexpected pull of those words and that face.

“It was a dream, Sirius.” 

“For now, yes. Doesn’t mean it can’t become reality some day.” 

He was still irresistible. Remus sat up straight, his stiff posture helping him to organize his thoughts and ignore the flutter in his heart.

“You’re a gay escaped convict whose lover is a werewolf. And you’re a highly illegal shape-shifter. Does Harry know about that, by the way?”

“Yes, I’ve told him. He’s suitably impressed.” Sirius waited patiently for Remus to marshal the rest of his objections. 

“Anyway, you’ve just crawled back into the Ministry’s good graces. And now you want to aggravate those people by breaking whatever regulations that prohibit me, and since we’ll live together, you also, from raising children?”

The dismissive wave was all the evidence Remus needed that this was exactly what Sirius proposed. 

“Gay relationships are no longer illegal. I’m an exonerated non-convict. I will register my Animagus status, thus becoming disgustingly law-abiding. And I did not crawl! The Ministry admitted it was at fault and now wants to negotiate some sort of compensation for its reprehensible treatment of me. The werewolf bit is just something we’ll have to bargain our way around.”

“You’re conveniently forgetting that you’re now a Polyanimagus.” 

Another elegant flick of the fingers banished this complication. “They don’t need to know about that. You’re avoiding the subject.”

Sirius’ smile dissipated. “I know this is sudden. But, I’m not going to let the Ministry get off easy. I’d love nothing more than to make them abolish all the laws that treat you unfairly. I don’t have a chance in hell of making that happen yet. But, maybe I can change our two lives and that can be a starting point for something greater.”

“ ‘Yet?’ Sirius, do you plan on crusading for werewolf rights? Now?”

“No, not now. But when Voldemort is dead and the Death Eaters defeated once and for all, we’ll have to do something with our time and energy other than wallow in the Black fortune. We might as well put our reputations as trouble-makers to good use.”

“I could do with a few years of wallowing. No worries about where the next meal is coming from. Flomping about on comfortable furniture. Jumping your bones whatever time of day the mood strikes me. It sounds perfect.”

“Stop trying to distract me.” Although Sirius had smiled at his lover’s words, he was unwilling to drop the subject. “I’m not unilaterally making both our minds up about this, but I think it’s worth some serious thought.”

Remus considered trotting out the hoary old pun, but decided they’d both heard it enough. He relaxed, leaning back into the sofa, remembering Sirius’ cryptic comment weeks ago about being the last Black. “So you’ve decided that you want to father a child.”

“If we live through this war and if the Ministry will stay out of our private lives.” Sirius’ tone was suddenly uncertain. “Maybe the Blacks can be reborn into something good, a repudiation of what my family has represented for centuries. And, what better way to attest to your humanity than to raise your own child and help me raise mine?”

Remus knew it would never be that easy. And something else niggled at him. 

“I’m uncomfortable at the thought that my relationship with you could be my ticket to greater freedom, when all the other werewolves out there don’t have that luxury.”

Sirius’ shoulders slumped forward and he suddenly looked weary. “It’s probably all way too complicated, isn’t it? Especially now, when either one of us could die the next time we set foot out the door. Am I crazy to even consider this?”

Remus took one of his lover’s slender hands between his own, cradling it like a wounded bird. “No, you’re not crazy. You have as much right as anyone else to be a father. But I think we have to consider how to hold the Ministry to honor in the future any bargain they make with us now.”

Sirius raised his eyes from his contemplation of their joined hands. “Does this mean you’re okay with the thought of fighting the Ministry for the right to have children? This is your decision, too.”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” Remus’ expression was quizzical. “I need to think about it. And we both need to consider the ramifications. People hang on to their prejudices, Sirius. Most of them hate werewolves, a lot of them hate homosexuals and I’m sure some of them will even find it hard to let go of the accepted wisdom that you’re a mass murderer.”

Sirius felt his stomach lurch. He’d thought that the poisonous assumptions about him would all disappear like ash blown by the wind. But, Remus was right. In spite of the evidence presented at the hearing, there were probably more than a handful of people who wouldn’t believe he was innocent. 

Remus was still mulling about practicalities. “I suppose we could live in separate houses, if the Ministry can’t be budged.”

“Separate houses!” Sirius was dumbfounded. “That’s the single most asinine thing I’ve ever heard you say! Either we do this together or we don’t do it at all. I’m not giving up what I have with you, Remus. We’ve both paid too high a price to get here.”

Remus mind whirled with conflicting thoughts. They had finally cleared up one gigantic complication and already Sirius was poised to create another.

“You realize that this will make our lives very public, whether we want it or not. Assuming we strike a deal with the Ministry about children, everyone will know I’m a werewolf.”

Sirius stared at him as if he had sprouted feathers. “Moony, everyone already knows you’re a werewolf. That ship sailed a long time ago, courtesy of our trusted ally, Snape. And, besides, unless we leave the country or live like hermits, my notoriety pretty much guarantees a certain amount of publicity no matter what we do or don’t do.”

Rubbing his temples, Remus stared into the fire. “This is a big decision, love.”

“I know.”

“I need to think about it.”

“I know.”

Letting his hands drop into his lap, Remus eyed the man sitting next to him. “You have a natural talent for complicating our lives.”

“I know that, too.” Sirius gazed soberly back at him, although his lips twitched with a smothered smile. “You should have picked some nice, quiet respectable wizard, like a gay version of Arthur Weasley.”

Remus reached out to curl a lock of black hair around his finger. “His hair is too red and his eyes are too dark.” 

“I didn’t mean someone who looks like Arthur.”

“I know what you meant.” His fingers disappeared, sliding through the raven waves. They curled around Sirius’ neck and insistently pulled him forward until their lips were a whisper apart. Remus let his eyes drift close. His head tilted just so to meet his lover’s mouth.

Sirius pulled back at the last second, looking very much as he had as a teenager when confessing to some misdeed. 

“Last week I told Harry about my old motorbike.”

Although accustomed to the seemingly random pattern of his lover’s thoughts, Remus still found the subject of transportation modes unexpected. He cocked an inquisitive brow.

“It was so much fun talking about it and telling Harry how the charms worked and what it felt like to fly it.” Sirius shook his head. “It was stupid. I was so stupid, talking about this toy, this hobby, when we’re faced with so many more important and deadly things to deal with now. Especially Harry. It made me realize I still have a long way to go.”

“I don’t understand. A long way to go where?”

Sirius leaped off the sofa and started pacing. “It was another one of those instances that make me think that I’m not living in the same world, the same time as all of you. I feel like I don’t fit anywhere. Everyone has moved on and grown up, including my young godson, and I’m still in between. I keep seeing things as I did before I went to prison, as if all these years never happened. I’ll never catch up. Sometimes I feel like I’ll always be an overgrown teenager, certainly not someone who should think about raising a child.”

Remus rose and smoothly stepped in Sirius’ path, grabbing him by the shoulders and forcing him to a halt. 

“Listen to me. You’ve spent a third of your life isolated from the world. Even these last few years you’ve been in limbo. Out of prison, but still not free. Of course it’ll take a while to catch up. There’s nothing wrong with that. The fact that you survived at all is a testament to your courage and your strength. And to the kind of man anyone would be proud to call their father.”

Sirius didn’t respond. Remus cupped his chin and forced their gazes to meet.

“Was fighting for your sanity in Azkaban just a parlor game? Was becoming a Polyanimagus some adolescent lark? Even altering that motorcycle called for intricate, complex spells. You did it for the fun of it and because the illegality thrilled you, but it showed your skill at improvisational magic. It wasn’t mere child’s play.”

Once again, his hand slid into Sirius’ hair. His other arm curved around the slender waist and pulled his lover close. 

“And it’s never stupid to talk with Harry about things other than Death Eaters and destruction,” he murmured. “You were sharing some of your past with him. Don’t you realize how he cherishes that?”

This time Remus didn’t let that delectable mouth slide away before he claimed it with a gentle kiss. His lips drew a caress along Sirius’ jaw. He turned his head slowly, rubbing his cheek across his lover’s, breath tickling warmly across Sirius’ skin, whispering into his ear. 

“You’re impulsive and impetuous. You’re complicated and chaotic and you always get me into trouble. You’re generous and loyal and gifted. And in spite of the horrors you’ve suffered and the pain you’ve endured, you still offer up whatever you have to give.”

The tension left Sirius’ body with a huge sigh. “I do it because I’m just too bloody stubborn to give up. And because I want to be worthy of you. I love you so much, Remus. It amazes me that you still love me, even though I’m not the best wrapped present under the Christmas tree.”

His arms tightened around Remus. He felt the familiar slippery heat tingling outward from every place where their bodies pressed together. Touch. The touch of Remus’ fingers along the nape of his neck; the pressure of his arm around Sirius’ back. He leaned into Remus. His Remus. His touchstone. His sheet anchor. 

“I love you, too,” Remus laughed quietly. He tipped his head to look into Sirius’ face and while his smile overflowed with warmth and comfort, the look in his eyes spoke of a deeper hunger. “This oddly wrapped present under the Christmas tree adds up to a man I wouldn’t trade for anyone else in the world. Not even for a Knight Bus full of gay Arthur Weasleys.”

“Now you’re just getting ridiculous,” Sirius snorted. “Besides, how many Arthur Weasleys can you shag at the same time?”

Remus silenced him with a kiss. He leaned harder into Sirius, nudging him backwards. Step by step they neared the door, each measure of distance marked by a kiss. 

“I’ll gladly give up all of them,” his teeth gently closed on an earlobe, “for the chance to shag one particular free man tonight.”

“A free man.” Sirius reiterated. “Free. It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

Laughing, they swept from the room.


End file.
